Another World
by blucougar57
Summary: A rash of inexplicable murders leads to a clash of cultures when a secretive agency moves in on NYPD territory, and Bobby Goren finds he may well have met his match in the mysterious Captain Jack Harkness...
1. Prologue: Death In Manhattan

_Author's Notes: **PLEASE READ THESE FIRST, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE UNFAMILIAR WITH THE SHOW "TORCHWOOD".**_

_This story has had me in something of a quandary. It falls into two fandoms – Criminal Intent, and Torchwood. (I'm not touching on the Doctor Who fandom... yet) After a lot of consideration, I've decided to go ahead and post it in the CI section of the website, at least to start with. I hope that a few of the readers from the Torchwood side of things have put me on author alert from my other ongoing Torchwood story, "You Can Never Go Home". _

_Upon making that decision, I now need to offer up some explanations/basic information/etc for anyone reading this who is not familiar with Torchwood or Doctor Who. I'm making no assumptions that every living person on the planet is a Doctor Who buff. Six months ago, I__ knew nothing about the show, and Torchwood was just something I kept forgetting to put a video in to record. Oh, how things change..._

_Firstly, I haven't abandoned my other stories, I swear it! But between trying to successfully complete NaNo (which I did, I made 50,000 words against substantial odds) and everything else happening in my life, I just haven't time. But no, people, I haven't just dropped off the map, I promise. And I really hope to have a few new chapters of other ongoing stories up really soon._

_Secondly, I have tried to put equal focus on both the CI characters and the Torchwood characters. However, I fear that, to start with at least, my attentions have been more centred on Jack and his team. My apologies for that, but it's just the way the muse has gone. I can't control it, and I won't even try._

_Thirdly, there is slash shipping in this story, and I am not referring to Bobby and Mike. The slash pairing is Jack and Ianto from Torchwood, and before anyone wants to have a word with me about that, I have one thing to say: IT IS TORCHWOOD CANON. Yes, there is a very strongly implied physical relationship between Jack and Ianto on Torchwood. The evidence is in a couple of kisses between the characters and an eyebrow-raising proposition using a stopwatch in season 1; and a smokin' hot kiss and a lovely bit of body-hugging slow dancing in season 2 - not to mention a bucketful of innuendo, and a lovely, mouth-watering scene where dear Gwen walks in on Jack and Ianto whilst they are half-naked and in the middle of some very intense foreplay. _

_I also want to state categorically that I am not, nor will I ever be, a Jack/Gwen shipper. That pairing will never happen in my stories. **EVER.**_

_Fourthly... what the hell. If you don't know the show, I can only hope that my story might encourage you to check it out, because it really is quite brilliant, and the character of Captain Jack Harkness is absolutely fantastic, especially for a sadistic writer like myself. _

_Seriously, how many characters are out there that you can torture to death in a story, and then bring him back to life and do it all over again? Gotta love the brilliance of those Doctor Who writers..._

_I'm posting the first few chapters all at the same time, mainly so anyone kind enough to read it will not be completely and utterly confused. I hope._

_And now, to more banal things._

_Rating: Strong T, for now. It may move to an M rating further on, depending on where the muse takes it. _

_Summary: A series of inexplicable deaths in New York city leave detectives baffled and draws the attention of a secret agency from another country._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Intent. I don't own Torchwood. I don't own Doctor Who. This is my NaNoWriMo story, written as a really big, month-long challenge and most definitely not for any kind of profit at all, unless you can count personal satisfaction as currency. In which case, we're all royally screwed. _

_And on that note, now that my intro notes are probably longer than the prologue itself, enjoy..._

* * *

He was being followed.

It wasn't a feeling that he had, like in one of those corny horror movies that he remembered watching with his little brother. He wasn't merely experiencing some sort of vague sixth sense intuition that he was being followed. There was no sound of footfalls that stopped whenever he did. There was no shadow in his peripheral vision that suddenly was no longer there when he turned back to look.

No, whoever… or whatever it was that was following him, they were making no attempt at all to conceal their presence or their actions. Twice he stopped to look back, thinking that his pursuer would perhaps pretend to be doing something else or, more stereotypically, try to hide from sight. But he didn't. The figure – and he called it that purely because he couldn't see him… or it… clearly enough to even give it a gender – continued walking at a brisk pace behind him, neither speeding up, nor slowing down.

He might have been able to fool himself that maybe he wasn't being followed at all, that perhaps it was just some person who happened to be walking behind him, in the same direction. He almost convinced himself of that, except that when he looked back a third time, he got an eyeful of what appeared to be some very sharp teeth.

His breath caught in his throat, and it was an effort not to panic. A trick of the light. It had to be a trick. No one had teeth like that. Trick or not, though, there was no doubt that this… _individual_ had targeted him.

Overcome with panic, he finally gave in and broke into a run.

He rounded the corner at a full-run, barely able to avoid having his feet skid out from underneath him as he went. As he ran around the corner, he caught a glimpse of his pursuer, and his heart skipped a beat at the realisation that he/she/it was still moving at the exact same pace as before. Then he was around the corner, and out of sight of the thing behind him.

He turned down a familiar alley where he had a cosy spot behind a disused dumpster, sheltered from the worst of the wind. Curling up inside, he trembled violently as he waited for the adrenalin to fade. Minutes past, that felt more like hours, before he found the courage to crawl back out and peer around the dumpster. There was not a soul in sight, save for the occasional pedestrian passing by the entrance to the alley at a brisk pace.

Relief flooded him, along with a slightly goofy feeling that he'd been a complete and utter idiot. He wasn't being followed at all. It had only been his imagination, and nothing more. Grinning idiotically to himself, he turned to crawl back into his box, taking a moment to adjust the newspapers and make the rough bed just a little more acceptable.

He had a threadbare blanket that he'd scavenged from the garbage one night, and his own arm served as his pillow. Comforted by his familiar surroundings, and by the solitude it afforded him, he settled down and went to sleep.

* * *

He awoke to a hideous slurping sound, like someone who was trying to suck up the last dregs of a bowl of soup with a straw. His eyes slowly opened with much effort, and he found himself staring up at a marble-white mass that wholly encompassed his vision.

He tried to move, to sit up… to do _something_, only to find he was utterly helpless. Between the increasing weight of the body that pinned him down and the growing weakness in his limbs and body, he had no recourse to try and save himself. At the same time that he realised he was going to die, though, it also occurred to him that there was no pain. He'd always dreaded death, thinking that it would have to hurt terribly, but this? This was different. This was blessedly painless and, for the first time in a long, long time, he felt warm and inexplicably safe.

Nevertheless, a deeper instinct kicked in and even as he consciously felt the life draining from his body he tried to utter a word of protest. All that came out, though, was a strange gurgling moan.

A hand alighted on his head, stroking his hair in a bizarre, almost fatherly gesture, and the last thing he heard before the darkness took him were four guttural words spoken harshly in his ear.

"I give you peace."

After that, he knew no more.

* * *

_tbc..._


	2. Dead End

_Manhattan, New York_

"Another one."

The weary comment came from Detective Alexandra Eames, as she stood observing the pearl-white body of the dead boy in the box. Her partner, Detective Robert Goren, didn't bother to respond as he crouched down to get a closer look at the corpse.

It was the seventh victim in four weeks, and everyone was starting to get extremely antsy. Though the Homicide division at the Three-One had originally had the case, it had been handed to major Case after the discovery of victim number four. Now, though, three more victims later, they were no closer to getting an ID on the killer.

At first, the detectives from the Three-One had gloated at Major Case's lack of success, believing it to vindicate their own fruitless efforts. By the time the sixth victim had turned up, though, no one was laughing. It was painfully obvious that there was a serial killer in full flight, and the fact that not even the great Bobby Goren, Detective Extraordinaire, could make headway in the case sent chills through the collective NYPD.

Bobby had not been able to even put together any sort of profile, and his partner knew first-hand that it was just about killing him. She'd tried to reassure him that it was no reflection on his abilities, and he seemed to accept that. It hit him hard, though, that the bodies were piling up while he seemed to be impotent to stop the carnage. It had hit them both hard – neither was prepared for a killer who took his victims' lives and left not a trace of himself behind.

That was the part that was driving Alex crazy. There was _always _trace left behind, no matter how careful the killer was. Whether it was semen from a dodgy condom, saliva or teeth marks from a careless bite, or skin traces beneath a victim's fingernails, there was always something. With all seven victims, the only trace left behind was that clear, slimy substance – so like saliva, and yet apparently nothing natural. Whatever it was, CSU was at a loss to define it.

Mac Taylor had apparently reported that one of their trace machines had actually blown up in the process of trying to identify the liquid. It was a mystery to everyone involved.

"A homeless boy," Bobby muttered, drawing Alex's attention. "Last victim was a middle-aged housewife on her way to pick up her sons at school. There's no… no pattern here. It doesn't make sense."

Alex sighed softly.

"It was going to happen sooner or later, Bobby. We were bound to strike a totally random killer eventually."

"But there should be something," Bobby insisted. "Some small connection… some pattern! There's always a pattern! It's impossible that it could be so totally and completely random like this! It just isn't right!"

"No," Alex agreed softly, her gaze falling on the dead boy. "It's not right."

The boy was little more than fifteen; visibly gaunt beyond the shade of white his skin had been turned. There was no ID on him yet, but Alex suspected it wouldn't be long. A boy on the streets was usually a product of a severely broken home, and odds were that his records were in the Juvenile system, as a foster kid if nothing else.

It grated on her to see a victim so young. There had been one other child victim, a little girl who had wandered away from her nanny at the park. That had been a very hard scene to cope with, and she knew she and Bobby would be sharing more than a few drinks together when this case was finally solved.

She shared his frustration, though. The randomness of the victims, the inexplicable liquid left behind at every scene, and the bizarre and as yet unknown cause of death all served to give them both a healthy dose of chronic migraine.

Seven people, all unrelated in every way imaginable – all dead, ivory-white bodies locked in the final death throes, and not one with so much as a bruise on their bodies.

Alex hazarded another glance at her partner, and was not surprised to find him scowling again. She desperately wanted to tell him to take it easy – after everything that had happened in the last couple of months with his mother, his brother and with the serial killer Mark Ford Brady, the last thing he needed was to stroke out over a case like this. She said nothing, though, knowing damn well that nothing she said would help him to relax. Nothing would help now except catching the killer, and she knew in her bones that it was now personal for him. He wouldn't rest until the killer was caught.

Though she would never have said so, she had no intention of trying to dissuade him from that course, because deep down, she felt exactly the same way. They were in this now, no matter where it took them, and neither one of them was going to quit until the job was finished.

* * *

Bobby frowned deeply as he observed and examined this newest victim. He loved a challenge, but this was seriously starting to piss him off. The only trace left behind at any of the scenes was the clear fluid on the flesh of the body, and no one had the first clue what it was. Bobby himself had no idea, and that was just one of the many factors of this case that were driving him crazy.

He stared at the substance now, covering the upper half of the victim in globulous portions, like some bizarre combination of water and jelly. It was odourless, and completely colourless – opaque in quality. He could barely begin to describe it, and he hated that with a passion.

Initially, he'd thought it to be saliva, though it was unlike any kind of saliva he'd ever seen. CSU reports had knocked that theory on the head, though. It was not saliva, not from any human or animal. In fact, the only thing that CSU could tell them was that it was not any kind of chemical. It _was_ a natural substance... but what that substance was remained a true mystery.

Rumours were circulating with full force, some borderline silly and others outright ludicrous. The most ridiculous rumour going around was that it was a completely alien substance. And then, of course, the jokes about UFOs and little green men had started. Bobby had been particularly irritated to arrive at work two days ago to find a mock-up business card taped to his phone, offering the services of 'Alien Catchers Extraordinaire'. Ross, sympathetic with Bobby's aggravation when there was still a serial killer out there somewhere, had read the squad the riot act over the juvenile prank, and subsequently all alien jokes had abruptly ceased.

And so there they were, still at square one, with no clue as to the killer's identity, and no answers to give an increasingly nervous public.

Sighing in aggravation, Bobby got to his feet and rejoined his partner back at the crime scene border that had been marked out by the bright yellow police tape.

"Nothing different this time, either," Alex commented softly. It was not a question, and nor did Bobby condescend to treat it as such. Instead, he nodded, resisting the urge to let his frustration show. At the last crime scene, he had made the mistake of running his fingers through his hair and then burying his face in his hands. The truth was that he'd had a splitting migraine and was struggling to focus through the debilitating pain. There had been a photographer at the scene, though, and the next morning the front page of at least three major newspapers had featured a shot of him with his face in his hands, along with captions like "Major Case Stumped".

The brass had come down on Ross like a ton of bricks over the headlines, and he in turn had ripped into Bobby – until Alex jumped into the fray and told him that Bobby had worked through the entire day with a migraine that was almost severe enough to have put him in the hospital. Bobby remembered with some small degree of satisfaction the dull shade of red that Ross had gone, before quietly apologising and promising that he would do his best to keep the media and the press out of their faces from then on.

"Nothing different," he agreed aloud. "Doesn't appear to be a mark anywhere on the body. Rodgers is not going to be happy."

Alex nodded wordlessly in agreement, silently dreading their next meeting with the Medical Examiner. She could understand Rodger's aggravation, though. This was victim number seven, and they still didn't have a cause of death. Everyone was getting increasingly upset over these murders, and for once Alex couldn't blame the brass for the way they were breathing down all their necks.

The grim bottom line, though, was that neither she nor Bobby had any answers. No one did.

Shaking her head, she turned away from the grim sight of the dead boy, and scanned the scene beyond the crime tape. Not that she expected to see anything or anyone that might be able to contribute, such as a possible suspect, but it gave her something to look at other than the depressing sight of a young boy who had had his life taken from him far too soon.

Her eyes passed over the small crowd that was gathered, and then locked onto a familiar figure that was just getting out of a black sedan.

"Ah, shit," she hissed. "Captain's coming."

She felt Bobby tense as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and had to fight to hold back a smirk. She knew damned well that he wouldn't appreciate her finding humour in his discomfort, but she just couldn't help it. Even now, after a year of working under Ross, Bobby still let himself get stressed out by the other man. It was a pointless exercise in her mind. Ross had not turned out to be the bad guy that they'd all expected, and he'd given them vital support in many instances. Not to mention, she thought wryly, that he could be as cunning as them.

She knew what Bobby's issue with the captain was, though, even if he didn't realise it himself. Ross refused to stay behind his desk, insisting on getting out on the streets with them on a regular basis – whether that meant joining them at crime scene, participating in stings, or simply being there to oversee them as they worked. Bobby, she knew, viewed it as interference, and interference was something he had no tolerance for.

Alex, on the other hand, was quietly pleased that their new captain refused to be a desk jockey. As far as she was concerned, his determination to get out of the office and join his detectives on the streets was the most effective means a captain had of staying in touch with the reality of the job. As much as she loved Jimmy Deakins, he had always been a politician as much as he was a cop.

Different men, different methods, she had said to Bobby early on. The only response she'd gotten was an annoyed grunt, and she'd had to quickly excuse herself to the ladies' room in order to avoid him hearing her laugh.

"Relax," she murmured now, allowing her fingertips to brush lightly against his in a subtle gesture. "He's on our side, remember?"

Bobby grunted softly in answer, but said nothing. They watched guardedly as Ross approached. He paused briefly to exchange a few words with Mac Taylor from CSU, and then continued on to join them on the other side of the crime tape.

"Same as the rest?" he asked quietly as he came to stand beside them. Alex nodded.

"Exactly the same. Random victim, nothing to connect him to the previous victims. No visible wounds, same unidentified fluid left on the body... It's like the kid had the life sucked out of him."

"Witnesses?" Ross queried, though he sounded none-too-hopeful.

"No," Bobby confirmed. "No one saw anything, no one heard anything. We've got nothing."

Ross glanced at him, hearing the frustration and aggravation clearly in Bobby's voice, mixed with a not so healthy dose of self-recrimination. Not surprising, the captain thought grimly. Bobby Goren was possibly taking it harder than anyone that no leads had been found so far, even though Ross whole-heartedly believed that it was not in any way a reflection on the unorthodox detective.

"Go easy on yourself, Detective. You're doing your best. I can see that, and I'm the only one that you need to be concerned with."

If Bobby was surprised by Ross's quiet declaration of support, he didn't let it show. Instead, he began gesturing towards the body.

"Same fluid on the victim as with all the others."

Ross swallowed back a sigh.

"So we start the cycle again. Collect the evidence, run the tests, come up empty. Son of a bitch..."

Bobby hesitated. He had an idea, slender though it was, but he was instinctively hesitant in raising it with Ross. The captain happened to glance up at him at that moment, though, and raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

"What is it, Goren? Spit it out, Detective."

Not for the first time, Bobby found himself quietly cursing the captain's perception. Nevertheless, he forced himself to speak out and say what was on his mind.

"Captain, I have a friend in the FBI. I'd like to send him a sample of that stuff."

Ross went very quiet all of a sudden, and Bobby felt his stomach sink.

"You want to involve the FBI."

"No, sir. This is just a friend. He wouldn't compromise our investigation. But he does have access to forensic equipment that we don't."

Ross was silent, frowning slightly as he considered Bobby's words. God knew they needed the help, although he didn't particularly like the idea of that help coming from the FBI – however unofficial it might be. Still, if Bobby Goren trusted this friend of his to be discreet, then perhaps it was worth trying. It also did not escape his attention the significance of Bobby asking him to begin with. He wondered whether maybe, just maybe, the quirky detective was finally starting to trust him. He hoped that was the case and, if it _was_ true, then surely he could repay that favour in kind?

He surveyed the scene before him with a heavy heart. Seven victims with a hundred percent possibility of more to come, and them with not a clue. It was time, he realised, to take a chance and step outside the boundaries of procedure. He looked back at Bobby, and was mildly amused to see the anxiety in the big detective's face. With some effort, though, he kept that amusement well-hidden. He knew Bobby would not appreciate it, and rightly so.

Instead, he spoke quietly to Bobby, saying just two simple words.

"Do it."

* * *

"So, who's this friend of yours?" Alex asked amusedly as she and Bobby walked away from the crime scene, a small phial of the clear gel-like substance hidden safely in Bobby's pocket.

"Just a guy I've known for a long time," Bobby answered. "He's into conspiracy theories, alien abduction and cover-ups, supernatural phenomenon... Anything you can think of like that, and he's into it. Think John Munch, over at SVU, and multiply by a hundred, and that's my friend. He's smart, though, and his partner has a friend or two with their forensics department. I can get them to run this stuff, and see whether they can figure out what the hell it is."

Alex chuckled softly.

"Mac Taylor won't be happy, getting trumped by the FBI."

Bobby grimaced in response.

"Well, let's wait and see whether they have any luck with this."

He pulled the phial out once they were seated safely back inside their SUV, and examined the contents with a deep frown.

"It just doesn't make any sense."

Alex eyed him sympathetically.

"That's what bites more than anything else, isn't it? You never could stand anything that didn't make sense."

"I never liked anything that didn't have a logical answer," Bobby corrected her. "Anything without reason. There's no reason to this... no pattern."

She nodded her agreement.

"I know. That isn't your fault, you know."

He answered that with silence. Alex hesitated, waiting until they were back on the road and on the way back to One Police Plaza before speaking again.

"Bobby, you're not omniscient. We will figure this out sooner or later. Just have a little faith, okay? We'll get there."

Bobby stared across at her, and the anguish on his face was almost more than she could bear.

"I know we will, Eames. The real question is how many more people will die before we do?"

Bobby was in contact with his friend that afternoon, arranging to meet and give him the phial. Despite Alex's curiosity over this mysterious friend, whose identity he would not even give up to Ross, she conceded and remained behind at the squad room, leaving him to go alone.

He was gone for an hour and a half, and when he came back there was a look on his face that was a tense mixture of worry and hope. She supposed she could understand that. They were both hopeful that the FBI might be able to provide them with answers where the NYPD's resources had fallen short. However, if it got back to the brass that Bobby had given a sample of key evidence to the FBI, all hell would well and truly break loose.

"Well?" she asked softly. Bobby regarded her ruefully.

"They're going to try, and they'll let me know as soon as they have something. Is Ross here?"

"Upstairs, with the Chief of D's," Alex told him. "He's really had our backs with this one."

"I know," Bobby murmured. "I hope we get something out of this, I really do."

She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"We will. Something has to fall into place sooner or later. Whatever this is... whoever it is... we're going to nail them. You did the right thing, Bobby. Even Ross thinks so... and just between us, he was pleased that you asked him, instead of just going off and doing it."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at her quizzically.

"Really?"

"Yes. It shows that you're starting to trust him. That's a big step for you, Bobby, and he knows it."

He didn't answer that straight away, taking a minute to consider what she'd said. Slowly, though, realisation dawned that she was right. He _was_ starting to trust Ross, even if it wasn't a conscious thing in his own mind. Not twelve months ago, he would have taken that sample to his friend and not even considered telling Ross that he was doing it. But this time, he hadn't merely told the captain – he'd actually asked permission. A moment later, he corrected his own thoughts. Perhaps he hadn't asked, per se, but as good as.

"He's... a good cop," Bobby conceded in a subdued voice. "And a... a good captain. I guess I just didn't want to see that to begin with. Deakins..."

"I understand that," Alex assured him. "And I think Ross does, too. But he's been waiting for you to give him a chance, and this time, you did. It'll pay off, Bobby. You'll see."

He sighed again, slumping back in his seat, and thinking ruefully of the way his friend's face had lit up like a little child on Christmas morning when he'd handed over the phial.

"I hope so, Eames. I really hope so. Because if nothing comes of this, then I don't know what we'll do next."

"Did your friend say how long it might take to get a result?"

"Well, his partner has a friend in forensics who owes her a big favour... He thought that they might be able to get a result of some sort within twenty-four hours. I just hope that no one else is killed in the meantime."

"Well, this is the seventh victim in a four week period," Alex mused as she looked back over the timeline of the killings. "The killer has been averaging two per week..." She looked up at Bobby worriedly. "If he keeps to his MO, we could have another victim within the next three or four days."

Bobby nodded, the news no surprise to him.

"The clock's ticking, and we're running out of time."

* * *

It was twenty-four hours later when Bobby got a phone call from his friend. The tests they'd been able to run had come up negative. Nothing they had told them what the substance was, or whether it was chemical or otherwise. However, he had friends who had connections, and would Bobby mind him passing a sample on for them to have a look at?

This time, Bobby said yes without consulting either Ross or his partner. He knew they would both be pissed off if they found out, and he hoped neither ever would. He was at the end of his rope, though, and any idea seemed like a good idea right at that moment.

In all honesty, and he would never have admitted this to anyone – not even Alex – Bobby felt completely and utterly helpless. He arrived at a crime scene, and it was as though a veil descended over him. The last time, it had come in the form of a blinding headache. The time before that, he found himself suffering an inexplicable bout of vertigo, and this time he'd found himself utterly unable to pick out details. Every time he tried, his very vision seemed to blur and swim in and out of focus.

Then, the moment he was away from the crime scene, everything went back to normal again. The only exception to that had been the migraine, which had stayed with him the entire day and hadn't disappeared until he got home and lay down on his bed.

He opted not to mention any of this added strangeness to Alex, not entirely sure what she might think. After all, it was still relatively soon after his mother's death, and after the Brady case, and the last thing he needed was for her to think that he couldn't cope. It was hard enough having to admit to himself that he wasn't really dealing with this well, without having his partner thinking that, too. And the other thing he didn't want or need was to be taken off the case.

Not that he thought Ross would. According to the rumour mill, the brass had been questioning his state of mind after the resolution of the Brady case, and according to Alex, Ross had well and truly stepped up to the plate and defended him whole-heartedly. Then, when this case had come up, the Chief of Detectives had apparently wanted Mike Logan assigned to it, citing Bobby's supposedly fragile state as cause to leave him out. Again, it had been Ross who had defended him, and insisted on handing the case to him and Alex, with Mike to act as back-up if it was needed.

Mike, who had been without a partner since Megan Wheeler had left to go overseas and temporarily rejoin a taskforce, had been assisting them where he could, grateful for the inclusion.

It was Mike, subsequently, who walked in on him in the task room just as he ended the phone call with his friend, and the Irish detective paused in the doorway, eyeing Bobby curiously before stepping all the way in and closing the door.

"Was that the buddy that you _didn't_ give a sample of that stuff to?"

Bobby eyed Mike wryly.

"Alex told you?"

"Actually, Ross did. And then he told me to keep it under wraps. I'm telling you, if looks could kill..."

Sitting back, Bobby finally nodded.

"Well, that was him."

"And...?"

For the briefest of moments, Bobby considered lying, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Shaking his head, he spoke in a defeated voice.

"Nothing. They couldn't help us."

"Shit," Mike whispered half-heartedly, and sat down opposite Bobby with a thud. "So... what now?"

Bobby shook his head.

"I don't know, Logan. I just don't know."

* * *

Less than twelve hours after being passed on from the FBI agents that Bobby Goren had contacted, the details of the sample, along with articles about the series of murders, were uploaded to the internet by three men, effectively throwing the door open for anyone to look at. For the next twenty-four hours, it went more or less unnoticed or disregarded by virtually everyone who happened across it. Then, almost by chance, someone from the British-based UNIT stumbled across it while conducting a random sweep.

Not understanding fully what they were looking at, they took it to their superior officer. That officer thanked the young woman for her diligence, and told her to immediately forget about what she'd seen. Then, once he was alone, he promptly sent a heavily encrypted email to a close friend, with all files attached.

Once he had done that, he deleted all records from the UNIT files, and went on about his business as though nothing had happened to begin with.

* * *

_tbc..._


	3. Introducing Torchwood

_Author's Note: I've changed the estimated flight time from Cardiff to New York, putting it at approximately eight hours. I still don't know how accurate this is, but I appreciate the folks who have tried to help me work it out. I like some accuracy in my writing, but I'm still winging it here. My poetic license stands._

_

* * *

_

Beneath Millennium Square  
_Cardiff, UK_

The email came through just before one-thirty in the morning, and in an ordinary office it might have sat there unnoticed until at least nine o'clock the next morning. This was not an ordinary office, though, and it was never unattended. Within minutes of the soft beep to alert whoever might be around of the e-mail's arrival, a tall figure in an immaculately-tailored suit seated himself at the computer and read through the short message in silence. He was just about to open up the attachments when a voice spoke behind him.

"I thought you were going home."

Ianto Jones glanced back over his shoulder, and smiled at the one approaching him.

"Just thought I'd check the email before I go. This one just arrived, from a friend of mine in UNIT. It looks like it could be rather important."

Captain Jack Harkness grinned and leaned over his colleague's shoulder, taking care to deliberately brush his cheek against Ianto's ear as he did so.

"So important that it can't wait until tomorrow?"

A small smile flitted across Ianto's face, and he deliberately turned so that his breath ghosted across Jack's face.

"Well, that depends. It would appear there is some trouble in the United States, in New York specifically. And, for the record, it _is_ tomorrow."

The statement was met with a derisive snort.

"New York?" Jack retorted, choosing to ignore the latter remark about the time. "Don't you think we've got our hands full with Cardiff?"

Ianto shifted to one side with some reluctance, and motioned towards the email.

"Read it."

Jack flashed Ianto a grin before turning his attention back to the email. As he read it, though, the grin faded to make way for the serious expression that Ianto knew so well. Reaching across, he hit the button that opened up the attachment. Immediately, a file opened up for them both to read.

"That..." Ianto whispered, only to trail off. Jack finished it off for him even as a second file flashed open.

"Isn't good. And this is in New York? There's no rift in New York... is there?"

"Not according to any information we have," Ianto confirmed. "Although, there have been so many disturbances around the planet in recent times, there is always the possibility that one may have opened up there."

"Just what we need," Jack muttered. He hit another button, opening up a third file from which appeared a photo, startlingly graphic, despite the lack of gore.

Beside him, Ianto felt Jack stiffen, though right at that moment he didn't understand why.

"Sir? What is it?"

Suddenly, Jack straightened up, all hints of his flirtatious side gone in an instant.

"Call the team in, now."

He was all business now, and Ianto knew there would be no arguing with him. All the same, he couldn't help but stare in surprise as Jack wheeled around and headed towards his office.

"Jack?"

Jack paused in his doorway to look back at the younger man. His expression was grim, and his pale blue eyes hard as diamonds.

"I can't be sure, but I think I know what did that." He motioned vaguely with his hand, indicating the picture of the dead body on the screen. "If I'm right, we're the only ones with the capabilities to stop it."

Ianto's eyes widened just slightly as he suddenly realised what Jack _wasn't_ saying.

"You mean to say..."

"I'm calling the President," Jack said flatly. "We're going to America." He paused, focusing an intent stare on Ianto before adding, "_All_ of us. Call the others in now, and then start packing. Get your ass moving, Ianto."

Swallowing back the threat of nausea, Ianto hurried to do as he'd been told.

* * *

Gwen awoke reluctantly to the persistent sound of her mobile phone ringing; the sound cutting into her subconscious mind and dragging her unceremoniously back into the waking world. Groaning softly, she stretched clumsily across the sleeping form of her boyfriend, grabbing the phone off the side table. A glance at the caller ID confirmed her worst fears, and she answered it with rapidly escalating irritation.

"It's one-thirty in the morning. This had better be good."

"You need to come in, Gwen," a distinct Welsh voice stated. "Now. This can't wait. Jack wants everyone here."

Gwen moaned aloud.

"I'm gonna kill him... All right. I'll be there in twenty, and there had better be coffee there, Ianto."

"It'll be ready to go," Ianto promised. "Oh, and Gwen?"

"Mm?"

"Pack a bag. We're going out of town."

The line cut out before she had a chance to query that last remark, leaving her lying there and staring at the phone in dazed shock. Movement beside her told her that Rhys was awake, and she looked down to find him staring up at her in puzzlement.

"Gwen? What's up?"

"I've got to go," she murmured apologetically, leaning down to kiss him tenderly on the lips. "I'm sorry, love. There's an emergency. Apparently we're going out of town for a bit."

There was no masking the disappointment on his face.

"We had a date for tomorrow, dinner at Chula's. Had to wait two months for that booking!"

"I know, I'm sorry," Gwen told him, even as she slid out of bed and began to grab clothes. "Look, why don't you take someone else?"

Rhys stared at her incredulously.

"Someone else? It's supposed to be a romantic dinner!"

"So... Don't have candles. Sorry, love, got to go. I'll call you."

And then she was gone.

* * *

"What?"

There was just a split second of silence on the other end of the phone at the sound of Owen's irritated greeting. Then, Ianto spoke in the same placid tone that always left Owen wanting to slap him across the head.

"Pack your bag and get in here, Owen. We're heading out of town. There's an emergency."

"Out of town? What the hell does that mean?" Owen demanded to know. "Where are we going?"

"Just get in here as fast as you can," Ianto told him. "Jack wants to leave as soon as possible."

"Shit," Owen muttered sourly as Ianto hung up. "If this is another trip to the country..."

He let that thought slide away, preferring not to be reminded of that particular incident. Thinking of creative ways of dispatching his boss, Owen climbed sluggishly out of bed to do as he'd been ordered.

* * *

Ianto's call to Toshiko found her awake, and apparently immersed in upgrading her home computer. Unlike her two colleagues, though, she responded with enthusiasm to the news that they were heading out of Cardiff on a new assignment.

"Finally," she enthused to Ianto's equal amusement and irritation. "I thought we were all going to go crazy with boredom. When are we leaving?"

"Jack wants everyone ready to go as soon as possible," Ianto confirmed. "Hurry in, Tosh. Whatever this is, it seems to have really spooked Jack."

Those words, more than anything else Ianto could have said, sent chills down Tosh's spine.

"I'll be there in fifteen," she promised.

* * *

Jack was pacing like a restless lion when first Toshiko, then Gwen and finally Owen arrived. Any smart retorts that either Gwen or Owen might have been working on evaporated at the sight of him. To say that the captain was tense would have been an immense understatement. He was like a taut wire, ready to snap at any moment.

As they filed into the conference room, all four expected to be dished out orders without explanation, delivered in Jack's patented 'don't fuck with me' tone. All four, Ianto included, were no less than stunned when Jack spoke in a quiet but urgent voice.

"I'm sorry for the midnight call-out, people, but this is serious, and it can't wait. We're going out of town, and I don't know how long it's going to take."

"How far out of town?" Owen asked, and his antipathy effectively vanishing in the face of Jack's quietly spoke words. Jack looked Owen in the eye as he responded.

"New York, in the United States."

Utter silence met that statement, and Jack took full advantage of it.

"I know it's well outside our usual boundaries of operation, but this situation doesn't leave us any choice. Ianto, if you would...?"

Ianto pressed a button on the laptop that was open before him, and the images of seven dead bodies appeared on the large screen.

"These seven victims have all turned up in New York over the last four weeks. Owen, any thoughts?"

For nearly a minute, Owen didn't move or speak. Jack waited patiently, watching his second in command with a piercing stare. Finally, the younger man got slowly to his feet and approached the screen, his expression giving away nothing at all. It was only when he had been standing in front of the screen, staring at each body for a couple of minutes in absolute silence, that Jack finally spoke with only the slightest hint of impatience in his tone.

"Owen? Report."

Owen let his breath out in a long hiss. He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn't dare to say it directly, primarily because it was one memory that none of them wanted to recall. He shut his eyes for a moment, and a disturbing image flashed through his mind of Jack, naked except for a standard surgical gown, ashen in colour and lying stone cold dead on a slab in the Torchwood morgue.

He shook the thought from his mind, and forced himself to speak.

"No visible wounds... Marble white... What's the cause of death?"

"Unknown," Jack answered soberly. "The New York police are at a dead end, pardon the bad pun. The only trace evidence they have is a fluid that was left on each body that they can't identify. We won't know for certain until we can get a sample, but I believe it is alien."

"Look at them," Tosh whispered, a horror on her face at the sight of the bodies that Jack found oddly reassuring. It wasn't that long ago that it seemed they had all become immune to the horrors that they so regularly faced. Recent events had given them all back their innocence, in a twisted sort of way, he mused. Tosh went on, a grim kind of fascination in her voice as she spoke.

"It's almost as if they've had the life drained..."

She trailed off abruptly, looking sharply at Jack in stricken silence as it suddenly occurred to her what she had been about to say. Jack nodded in confirmation of her words, and though he looked a little on the pale side himself, he still finished off the sentence for her.

"Like they've had the life drained out of them. I know."

Owen returned to his seat, sitting back down with a heavy thud and looking mildly ill. Jack spoke again, willing his voice to stay even in the presence of his team.

"This isn't the work of Abaddon, but the being that I think _is_ responsible is no less dangerous. The bottom line is that they're out of their depth over there. We have to go. Are you all with me?"

Ianto said nothing, having already made his decision long before the others arrived. Gwen, Tosh and Owen exchanged looked, each one thinking the along the same line.

Jack Harkness, consummate order man, had actually asked them to follow him, rather than simply telling them to go. There was only one way to respond to that, and Owen spoke for all of them.

"We're with you, Jack. Of course we're with you, mate."

The relief on Jack's face was palpable, and they all wondered whether he had actually expected them to refuse. They had no chance to answer, though, as Jack went on quickly.

"Okay, then. I've already spoken directly to the President to tell him we're coming. A flight is being held for us, and we're being given a clear path through all security checkpoints and Customs. We have fifteen minutes to collect whatever gear we think we'll need, and get moving. Let's go, people!"

Owen snorted as they headed out of the conference room single-file.

"This is going to be great," he retorted. "Now we get to screw with the New York coppers, too."

Jack smirked as he led the way down into the central body of the Hub.

"Only if I'm really lucky."

* * *

It was a new experience for all of them – including Jack – to march into the airport and walk through the terminal like they owned the place. And, for all intents and purposes, they might as well have.

Upon arrival, they entered the terminal to find a queue that would surely take at least an hour or more to get through. Rather than join the queue, though, Jack led the way through the terminal, confidently striding past the long check-in queue to the counter, ignoring the aggravated grumbles and complaints from those in the line.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you have to queue up with everyone else," the young woman told him with pompous authority. "I can't check you in ahead of all these other people..."

She trailed off as the tall, handsome and visibly impatient man with the body-length military coat and American accent leaned across the counter and cut her off mid-sentence, at the same time holding up identification for her to see.

"We're Torchwood. I'm Captain Jack Harkness, and this is my team. Flight Q796 is being held for us. Now, as much as I'd love to stay and get to know you better, we don't really want to keep that plane waiting any longer than necessary. Do we?"

Visibly flustered by the intensity of his attention, the young woman checked the bags in without further argument – particularly after a couple of UNIT officers arrived to ensure they were given swift passage through the airport to their flight.

* * *

"Well, that was an experience," Gwen commented once they were seated in the business class section of the plane. Tellingly, there was no one else at all in the section. Whether that was pure luck, or whether all business class passengers had been shifted to another section, or another flight entirely, none of them knew and they had no intention of asking.

"Please," Owen said as he stretched out luxuriously in one of the ultra-comfortable business class chairs, "don't you dare say that we have to spend this flight reading files."

Jack smiled wryly.

"This is an eight hour flight, people. Hopefully there'll be time to read up on the files when we get to where we're going. For now, get some sleep, if you can."

The suggestion was well-heeded, and within minutes of take-off, Gwen, Tosh and Owen were all asleep. Only Jack and Ianto remained awake.

"Sir?" Ianto asked Jack softly. "Are you going to take your own advice?"

Jack shook his head, even as he began to read the police files that he'd downloaded while waiting for his team to get to the Hub.

"Too much to do," he murmured. Ianto watched him with concern.

"Jack..."

Jack's breath caught slightly in his throat. That tone was painfully familiar, and he found himself responding to it despite a deeper instinct to ignore it.

"I don't sleep," he said by way of explanation. The Welshman looked sceptical, at best.

"Do you mean you won't, or you can't?"

Jack looked over at him slowly, his expression unreadable. Ianto went on again softly, quietly hoping he wasn't overstepping the mark.

"If I may be so presumptuous to point out, you used to sleep. Quite well, too, if I may say so."

"You wore me out," Jack pointed out with a grin. "You and that damn stopwatch. Trust me, Ianto, very few can lay claim to _that_."

Ianto raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. After a moment of silence, Jack's quasi-lecherous grin faded and, for a fleeting moment, Ianto saw a raw pain in the other man's eyes, mixed with a very tangible and deep-seated fear. Then, it was gone again, and Ianto was left wondering whether it had just been his imagination.

"Get some sleep," Jack told him softly. "There's no telling how much chance we'll have to rest once we get there."

* * *

_Approximately eight hours later_

When the team disembarked nearly half a day later, it was to an alert that an eighth body had been discovered. Jack made the grim announcement as they made their way rapidly through Customs and past all the security checkpoints.

"So what do we do?" Gwen wondered, almost having to jog to keep up with Jack's long strides. "The New York police will have control of the crime scene by now."

Jack eyed her with bemusement.

"Simple. We go in there and take it off them. This is Torchwood jurisdiction now, and we've been given a free hand by the US President."

"Not wanting to put a dampener on your enthusiasm, or anything," Owen remarked, "but how are we going to get around, exactly? Since the SUV couldn't fit in the plane..."

"And where are we going to work from?" Tosh asked anxiously. "We have no lab, no equipment... Only what we brought with us."

"Relax, everyone," Jack assured them. "It's all taken care of. We've been promised space to work in the NYPD Headquarters, One Police Plaza, and we have a five bedroom suite reserved at the Plaza Hotel for down-time."

He refrained from remarking that the chance of any down-time was slim at best.

"And our transport?" Owen asked with a frown. Jack grinned as they came out into the sunlight and crisp air to find an old friend sitting there waiting for them.

"The SUV!" Tosh burst out at the welcome sight of the Torchwood SUV

"Bloody hell, Harkness," Owen exclaimed, his voice heavy with disbelief. "How did you manage to pull this off?"

Jack was grinning widely by then, pleased with their reaction.

"I have a friend with a transport chopper, who owed me a very big favour. That's all you need to know."

"That's all we _want_ to know, more like," Owen retorted. Gwen smirked.

"Must have been one hell of a big favour, eh, Jack?"

He deliberately ignore them both, concentrating instead on loading their bags into the back. Once that was done, and they were all seated inside, Jack spoke again.

"Tosh, can you access the NYPD system? I want to know where that crime scene is."

"Just give me a minute, and I'll have an exact location for you."

Less than a minute later, Tosh had the precise location of the victim's body, and had loaded the information into the Satellite Navigation.

"Sir?" Ianto asked. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"

"Thanks for the offer, Ianto," Jack answered wryly, "but we need to get there today."

Ianto smiled wryly as Jack pulled out from the curb and promptly stomped his foot down on the accelerator, cutting off a taxi driver as he went.

"I was thinking more in terms of just getting there alive."

Jack shot Ianto a mock frown.

"Are you saying you don't trust my driving?"

"Not at all, sir," Ianto replied mildly. "Just pointing out that New York is different to Cardiff."

"What he's saying, Jack," Owen called out from his seat in the rear, "is that your homicidal style of driving is fine back home, but it might not go so well in a poncy city like this."

Jack grinned, unperturbed by the gentle, good-natured teasing from his team.

"You can drive tomorrow, Ianto. Today, we need to get to the scene before the Americans contaminate the crap out of everything."

"You say that like you're not one of them," Gwen remarked curiously. Jack smiled.

"I'm not. I told you once before, I'm a citizen of the UK, and proud of it."

"But you were born in America," Gwen persisted. Jack pointedly ignored her. Instead, he made a frustrated noise, and turned off the Sat-Nav.

"Tosh, directions, please? Haven't been to this city for... well, for a long time, and I hate the damn Sat-Nav."

Had he been looking in the rear-view mirror at that exact moment, he would have been amused to see Toshiko rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Okay, Jack. Just keep going for two and a half kilometres, and then turn right to get onto the bridge. We need to cross the Hudson River."

"Okay, people. Hold on."

And with that, he floored the accelerator.

* * *

_tbc..._


	4. Taking Control

_Manhattan,  
__Behind a church_

"It is inconceivable," Ross said heatedly as he, Bobby and Alex stood observing the pearl-white body of the priest who lay in the alley behind the small inner-city church. "Inconceivable that we could have eight bodies, and no evidence!"

"We have evidence, Captain," Alex reminded him quietly. "It just hasn't gotten us anywhere."

Ross nodded, looking across at Bobby. He didn't particularly like the greenish-grey tinge to the big detective's features, and it occurred to him that this was not the first of these crime scenes that the big detective had exhibited a bad reaction to.

"Goren? Are you all right?"

Bobby nodded, and then immediately looked like he severely regretted the action, gulping slightly and turning a very pale shade of green.

"I... I'm fine. I just... something I ate."

Alex shot him a sharp look.

"You would have had to have eaten something in order to have a reaction to it," she retorted. Ross's brow creased with visible concern.

"You've had a bad physical reaction of some sort to every one of these crimes scenes."

It wasn't a question, and Bobby suddenly found he didn't have the inclination to deny the captain's words.

"Yes," he admitted. "I don't understand it, but yes. I have."

Ross looked very much as though he wanted to pursue the issue – and Bobby had no doubt that he did – but any chances of it were snuffed out when the captain's cell phone suddenly rang shrilly. Frowning at the unwanted interruption, Ross answered the call.

"Ross... Chief Bradshaw? Yes sir, we're at the scene right now... _What_?"

The last word, almost shouted, drew the undivided attention of both Bobby and Alex. Ross went on, just one step shy of shouting down the phone at the Chief of Detectives.

"Chief, this is _our_ investigation. We can't just palm it off... They're from _where_? Chief Bradshaw, this is..." And then, abruptly, Ross deflated. "Yes sir," he said tersely. "Yes, we'll cooperate fully."

He snapped his phone shut, his expression stony.

"Captain?" Alex asked. "What is it?"

"We've lost the case," he told them flatly. He was not the least bit surprised when Bobby and Alex both reacted with utter vehemence.

"What? To who? Which squad?" Alex demanded to know.

"Not to another squad," Ross told them. "To an outside agency."

"A... what...?" Bobby burst out incredulously. "Excuse me, a _what_?"

"Whoever they are, they're definitely not NYPD," Ross told them.

"FBI?" Alex wondered. "CIA? Who?"

"I don't know," Ross insisted. "Bradshaw mentioned a name... Torchwood... but I've never heard of them, and Bradshaw either wouldn't or couldn't elaborate."

"Torchwood?" Bobby echoed, his forehead deeply creased in a frown.

"And apparently they're on their way here right now," Ross added.

"So let me get this straight," Alex said heatedly. "We're losing this case to some yahoos that don't even have jurisdiction here?"

"Apparently the issue of their jurisdiction is not our concern," Ross muttered, sounding sourer with every passing second.

"This is crap, Captain," Bobby snapped, unable to conceal his fury. Ross held his hands up defensively.

"I'm on your side, Goren, believe me. But right at this moment, my hands are tied and so are yours. We're under strict orders to stand down and clear this area for Torchwood... Whatever the hell Torchwood is."

"I think we're about to find out," Alex said, her gaze going to the end of the alley. Bobby and Ross both looked around, and sure enough a large black SUV that looked like a miniature tank to the three NYPD officers turned into the alley and came to a halt a short distance from the bright yellow crime scene tape.

"British-make," Bobby mused, and Ross gave a low whistle of appreciation, despite his aggravation at his squad's authority being usurped.

"Not as good as American-make," Alex muttered testily, drawing smirks from both men. As they watched, the doors of the SUV were flung open with some degree of dramatic flair, and five individuals climbed out.

"Great, it's the Scooby Squad," Alex grumbled. Bobby snorted, and Ross uttered a choked laugh, but neither man said a word. Instead, they stood and watched as the five members of Torchwood approached.

The tall, dark-haired man in a full body-length military greatcoat stepped agilely under the yellow tape and came to a halt directly in front of them. He scanned the three of them with more than a subtle interest, and Ross couldn't help but notice that the man's gaze seemed to linger minutely first on Alex, and then on Bobby. Then, finally, his gaze came back to Ross.

"You're the superior officer here?"

Ross couldn't help but bristle slightly at the seeming derision in the other man's tone.

"Yes," he confirmed shortly. "I'm Captain Danny Ross, Major Case Squad. And you are...?"

"Captain Jack Harkness. Listen, we appreciate all the work you and your people have put into this so far, Captain, but this is our problem now."

"And who _are_ you, exactly, Captain Harkness?" Ross asked sharply.

A small, infuriating smile flitted across Jack's lips.

"We're Torchwood, Captain, and that's all you need to know. Please instruct all of your people to leave this area straight away. Just leave a couple of officers to keep the public away."

Ross's jaw locked. Bradshaw had instructed them to cooperate, but he hadn't expected this outright dismissal.

"Is that all, _Captain_ Harkness?" he asked scathingly.

Jack paused, his gaze shifting to Bobby and Alex, apparently oblivious to Ross's audible anger.

"You two are the ones who have been working this case?"

"That's right," Bobby confirmed testily. Jack nodded, unconcerned by the detective's irritation.

"Okay. We're going to need to talk to you both, so don't wander too far."

The two detectives exchanged dark looks, neither of them impressed at being treated like witnesses or, worse, suspects. Ross looked equally infuriated, and tried once more to voice his displeasure.

"Captain Harkness, my people are..."

"At our beck and call," Jack cut him off, his tone uncompromising. "I don't have the time to waste arguing with you. If you have a problem with this, then talk to your Commissioner."

"Exactly whose authority are you acting under?" Ross demanded to know, feeling his blood pressure rising dangerously.

"Our own," Jack answered. "And our authority has been ratified by the President himself. Torchwood is in control now, and we will expect your complete compliance. Right now, though, you can start by removing yourselves from this area. Immediately."

Jack then turned and strode away towards the body, no so much as glancing back. His team hesitated only for a moment before following. As they went, though, they could hear the tall male detective speak ruefully.

"And you thought Logan and I were pains in the ass."

Ross snorted as he started to walk away.

"I'll never complain again. Eames, when we get back, I want you to run a search. I want to know everything there is to know about that clown."

"Yes, Captain," was the simple but determined reply.

Owen made no effort to contain his laughter as they joined Jack by the body.

"You really know how to piss off the natives, Jack."

"What can I say?" Jack said casually. "It's a talent."

"And they're planning to check up on you," Gwen added. Jack looked first at her, and then to the retreating figures of the captain and his detectives. If anything, he looked amused.

"They can check up on me all they like. They won't find anything relevant. Just as long as they stay out of our way. Owen, you've got a body now to examine. What can you tell us?"

Owen paused in answering, looking the body over as thoroughly as he was able to without disturbing it too much.

"Same as the other seven. I've never come across anything like this before. Might be able to tell more from an autopsy, though. If you don't mind, though, I'll wait until we get to... well, wherever it is we'll be setting up shop before putting the deep tissue scanner to use. Don't need some nosey sod getting an eyeful and blabbing about it."

Jack nodded his assent, quietly pleased with Owen's attempt at discretion.

"Okay. We need to wrap the body and get it into the SUV, along with anything else that's relevant."

"Jack, you said you thought that you knew what had done this," Ianto pointed out. Jack glanced at him and then at the others. He looked distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden, as though he wished Ianto had kept his mouth shut.

"I thought I did," he admitted finally, with great reluctance. "I'd hoped I was wrong."

"And what about now?" Tosh asked. Jack ran his fingers roughly through his hair in the first visible sign of stress that he'd shown since they'd learnt of the strange killings.

"I'm almost positive that I know what did this," he told them in an audibly strained voice. "And I'm wishing even more than ever that I was wrong."

"Well, what is it?" Gwen asked him in audible concern. For a long while, Jack didn't respond. When he did finally speak, there was a very slight shakiness to his voice that none of them had heard since his return from wherever he'd disappeared to after defeating Abaddon and cheating death once more.

"I think it's a Grysliaak. It exists by draining the life force from its victims."

"Like Abaddon," Tosh whispered in horror, loathed though she was to make the obvious comparison. Jack, however, shook his head.

"No, Abaddon was different. It killed randomly. It only killed whoever was unlucky enough to get caught in its shadow. But Grysliaaks... They're a different prospect altogether, and they're very dangerous."

"How do you know about them?" Ianto asked quietly. Jack looked very much as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. He answered the question, though; despite the anguish it seemed to be causing him.

"I had an... encounter with one... when I was being held on the Valiant."

Silence met the soft admission. Jack had spoken very little to them about his time as a prisoner on the Valiant, under the Master's brutal and sadistic control. Indeed, as far as any of the Torchwood team was consciously aware, that twelve months had never actually happened. None of them doubted Jack over it, but it was all-too-easy to forget the grim revelation that he had endured twelve months of hell at the hands of a psychopath.

"When you say you had an encounter with one..." Owen said tentatively.

"The Master brought one in... to see what it would do with me. Basically... it killed me. A lot."

"Jack..." Gwen started to say, but he cut her short.

"We're not going to get anymore answers here." He stood up suddenly, coat flapping around his legs as a gust of wind blew through the alley. "We need to wrap things up here, and get to One Police Plaza. It may take some time to get set up there, and I don't think we're going to get a very warm welcome. Let's go, people."

As he strode back towards the SUV, the other four members of Torchwood exchanged grim looks.

"Makes your head spin a bit," Owen muttered. "Trying to think about what Jack went through when those twelve months never happened..."

"They did happen for him," Ianto pointed out, keeping one eye on where Jack was rummaging around clearing space for the body in the back of the SUV. "That's what we need to remember."

"But the stubborn idiot refuses to talk to us about it!" Owen complained. "How, exactly, are we supposed to keep from putting our collectives boots in it when we don't know what went on? He needs to clue us in a little!"

"He's trying, Owen," Tosh hissed. "He told us after he came back that he couldn't talk about it yet. I think when he's ready, he will. We have to be patient."

Owen sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Jack just disappeared on us. No goodbye, no 'I'll see you later'. _Nothing_. For all we knew he could've been dead!"

Gwen coughed, and Owen reddened slightly as he realised his faux pas.

"Okay," he conceded. "Maybe not dead, but you know what I mean. We had no idea whether he was coming back or not! Then, when he does come back, even though it's only been a month as far as we're concerned, apparently for him it's been a whole year! How the hell are we supposed to get our heads around that?"

"It's been longer than a year for Jack, I think," Ianto mused. "I think he was on the Tardis for a while before the Doctor brought him home."

"Right," Owen agreed. "Now, we know stuff happened to him over that time. He said he was a prisoner. You can't tell me that the Master had him for a whole twelve months and never figured out his little secret."

"He already knew," a voice directly behind them spoke, causing all four of them to jump in surprise.

"Bloody hell, Jack! Are you trying to give us all a heart attack?" Gwen gasped. He didn't smile and, for a moment there the haunted look in his eyes was just about more than any of them could stand.

"Jack," Ianto started to say, but Jack cut him off in a strained voice.

"I was tortured. Is that what you need to know? That the Master was so thrilled to have a man in his control who couldn't die that he specifically sought out the most skilled torturers in the universe? Or is that still not enough? Do you need details as well?"

"Jack, we're sorry, mate," Owen murmured, looking genuinely regretful. Jack's expression was hard, but beyond the tough façade they all caught a glimpse of the pain he still clearly felt.

"If you're done discussing my emotional welfare, we've got work to do."

They watched as Jack strode away again, and Owen waited until he was well away from them before speaking in a low, rueful tone.

"Oh, yeah. There's the testy bastard that we all know and love."

"Shut up, Owen," Gwen grumbled as they began to wrap the body.

* * *

Ianto found Jack back in the SUV, sitting in the driver's seat and watching the others work with a weary look that the Welshman recognised all too easily. He slid into the front passenger seat and pulled the door closed to afford them a little privacy.

"Did Owen call me a testy bastard?" Jack asked in a detached, emotionless tone that Ianto found mildly disturbing.

"Yes, he did. And yes, you are." Jack fired a sharp look at the younger man, but Ianto went on before he had a chance to argue. "They're concerned about you, Jack. That's not something that you want to be turning your nose up at."

Jack stared ahead, his fingers drumming out a restless pattern on the steering wheel.

"I know," he conceded finally after a long silence, and this time the aggravation was gone, replaced with regret and grief. "Damn it… I know. I didn't mean to snap, but I told you all when I came back. I can't talk about it. Not yet."

Ianto nodded knowingly.

"You still have to face up to it in your own mind," he said gently. "I understand, Jack. Give them a chance to understand that, too."

Jack sighed and looked away out the window, though what he was staring at was beyond Ianto. There was nothing there but a brick wall.

"I just want to forget about it. It's the year that wasn't… Everyone else gets to forget it, but I don't. I have to live with it, and I don't want to!"

Ianto watched him thoughtfully for a minute before trying again.

"Tell me about the Grysliaak."

Jack stiffened just briefly, and Ianto wondered whether he'd made a mistake suggesting it. But then Jack began to speak with a quiet, forced calm.

"The Master brought in a Grysliaak about two and a half months after he activated the paradox machine and let the Toclafane through." He paused, and smiled bitterly. "Actually, I have no idea how long it really was. I lost track of time pretty quickly. I saw first-hand how the Grysliaak killed. I thought at the time that the Master just wanted me to get an eyeful… you know, before it was my turn. I figured out later that he just did it to torment me. You see, it killed painlessly. The people that the Master gave to it to kill, they died peacefully and painlessly. They just went to sleep. After everything the Master had already done to me…"

"You were looking forward to a painless death," Ianto guessed, and Jack nodded breathlessly.

"Yes," Jack admitted, unable to look Ianto in the eye. "I _was_ looking forward to it… to just going to sleep for a while. I thought it would feel like a natural death. Except… I'm not natural."

"It hurt, didn't it?" Ianto guessed, quietly dreading the answer.

"And how," Jack said hoarsely. He pinched at the bridge of his nose as a headache suddenly threatened. "It was agony, Ianto. It… It was like facing Abaddon all over again, except this thing thrived on the energy that it took from me…" He hesitated, and then corrected himself with a rough shake of his head. "No, it wasn't energy. It was my life force. The damn thing practically dragged my life force out of me, and it could never get enough. The Master kept it round for nearly a month before he got bored with it and cut it loose. But until then… Three times a day, Ianto. At least three times every fucking day."

Ianto hesitated only a moment before reaching out and taking Jack's hand in his own, intertwining his fingers with the captain's. Jack looked down at their joined hands, and then back up at Ianto. The younger man half expected Jack to pull away from him, and was greatly encouraged when that didn't happen. Hoping he wasn't pushing too hard, he spoke again.

"We're not expecting you to tell us anything before you're ready," Ianto assured him, deliberately keep his voice soft and low. "Just don't forget that we're here. And when you do feel like you're ready to talk… about any of it… we will listen to you."

Jack slowly lifted Ianto's hand and brought it to his lips in a soft, tender kiss.

"Thankyou," he whispered, his lips still pressed lightly against the cool flesh of the Welshman's hand. He paused for a long moment before speaking again. "I don't sleep because of the nightmares."

Ianto regarded Jack solemnly and without surprise, leaving Jack to wonder just how much Ianto was already aware of that truth.

"You know already," he said, not quite able to keep his tone steady. Ianto didn't even attempt to deny it.

"Yes," he confessed. "At least, I figured that was one of the main reasons."

"How…? If I haven't slept…"

Ianto bit back a sigh.

"Your first night back home, Jack. Don't you remember?"

A sad, bitter smile flitted briefly across Jack's lips. He remembered that night vividly. His return to the Hub had created no end of excitement, and it wasn't until some time after Gwen, Tosh and Owen had finally left that Jack had finally had a chance to face Ianto. The younger man had been angry, so very angry, and though Jack had not been able to blame him for that, nor had he been able to stop himself from reacting to it.

Many rash words and one broken nose later, the two men had found themselves in bed together, experiencing possibly the best make-up sex either man had ever enjoyed.

Afterwards, Jack had slept while Ianto quietly removed himself and went to shower. It was when he'd come back, with the express intention of rejoining Jack in the comfort and warmth of the bed, that he'd gotten his first eyeful of just how badly Jack's twelve months of captivity had really affected him.

Jack was no longer in bed, and to this day Ianto still didn't know whether he'd climbed out or fallen out. He lay on the floor beside the bed, curled up in the foetal position and shaking uncontrollably. His tightly closed eyes were wet with tears and choked sobs escaped his lips, intermixed with heartbreaking pleas for mercy.

When Ianto had gone to him, to try and wake him up, the guttural sobs had erupted into terrified screams and Jack had ended up crawling nearly all the way under the bed in a blind panic. It had taken Ianto a good fifteen minutes to wake Jack up properly, and then another hour beyond that to calm him down and get him back into the safety and comfort of his bed.

That was the last time that Ianto had witnessed Jack sleeping. From that point on, Ianto had found himself under constant request for fresh coffee, extra strong. He'd conceded, if only for knowing that if he refused the requests, then it was entirely possible that Jack would have turned to more suspect methods of keeping himself awake.

He couldn't honestly say that the lack of sleep had affected Jack's ability to do the job, but he had to wonder what sort of damage it might be doing to him mentally and emotionally.

"They're done," Jack said abruptly, and Ianto knew from his decisive tone that this particular conversation was well and truly over. He looked out through the windscreen of the SUV to see Owen and the women slowly making their way back down the alley with the body between them.

"On to One Police Plaza, then?" he asked, and Jack nodded in confirmation.

"Yes. I'm telling you, Ianto, I hope with find this thing quickly… whatever it is. The sooner we get home, the happier I'm going to be."

Ianto smiled in wry agreement.

"Amen to that, sir."

* * *

Ross, Bobby and Alex arrived back at One Police Plaza, and walked back into the Major Case squad rooms to find an agitated Mike Logan waiting for them.

"Logan?" Ross asked, sensing trouble even before the detective had a chance to say anything. The look on the Irish cop's face spoke in volumes.

"Chief Bradshaw is waiting for you in your office, Captain."

Ross's expression darkened visibly at that news.

"Great," he growled. "Just wonderful. First he calls us at the crime scene to throw us off the case, and now he's here to tell us to our face?"

"Uh, I think it's worse than that," Mike said tentatively as Ross started to walk past him. The captain froze in mid-stride, and looked slowly back at Mike with a look that left the tall cop wanting to duck for cover.

"What?"

Mike hesitated, and then pointed wordlessly to the other side of the squad room. Ross turned to look, and a moment later all colour drained from his face.

"What in the name of God is going on here?"

On the other side of the squad room, no less than the three largest task rooms had been emptied of all but the chairs, tables and whiteboards. Everything else NYPD related had been quite literally thrown out, into piles in whatever corners of the squad room were free.

At Ross's angry shout, the door of his office swung open and Chief Bradshaw strode out, looking almost as red in the face as the Major Case captain.

"Ross, before you lose your cool..."

"Lose my cool?" Ross exploded. "_Sir_... Please, will you tell us what the hell is going on here? First you tell us we're off the serial killing case in favour of some secretive group from God knows where, and now we come back to find we're being shunted out of our own offices!"

Bradshaw held his hands up defensively.

"I completely understand your irritation at this little inconvenience, and I'd like to go on record as saying that I argued against it. However, orders came from much higher up, and I suppose they _do_ need somewhere to work..."

Ross suddenly went lethally quiet, staring at the Chief of Detectives with a look that would have curdled milk.

"_Who_ needs somewhere to work?"

Bradshaw hesitated, looking as though he didn't want to have to say the word.

"Torchwood," he answered finally. When Ross spoke again his voice was low and deceptively calm, but the white-knuckled fists at his sides told everyone there how angry he truly was.

"That... _group_ is not setting up in this squad room! We agreed to cooperate..."

"Yes, exactly," Bradshaw jumped in quickly. "You did agree to cooperate, so look at this as a temporary arrangement in the spirit of cooperation. And the more you cooperate with them, hopefully the sooner they'll be out of here, and back to where they came from. Look, Danny, I'm no happier about this situation than you and your detectives, believe me. But I wasn't kidding when I said orders came from high up."

"How high up?" Alex asked with a deep frown. Bradshaw regarded her grimly.

"I'm talking about orders direct from the President himself. The NYPD has been ordered to cooperate fully with Torchwood, no questions asked. I'm as much in the dark as you."

Ross let his breath out in a long, frustrated hiss.

"We are seriously being expected to give up a third of our space to these people? Dare I ask what's going to happen with the victims' bodies? Seeing as we were booted off the crime scene?"

Bradshaw looked more than a little uncomfortable at that.

"A portion of the morgue has been sequestered for use by Torchwood."

Mike snorted at that.

"Oh yeah, that'll go down really well with Rodgers. Remind me not to go anywhere near her until this mob are gone."

"Yes, well, ME Rodgers has already expressed her displeasure to me directly," Bradshaw admitted. "But I'm afraid there is no helping it. This is what's happening, and none of us have a choice."

"Easy for you to say, sir," Bobby said sourly. "You're not giving up your office to them."

Mike, Alex and Ross all winced at the less than discreet comment from the big detective. If Bradshaw was irritated by it, though, it didn't show. Rather, he nodded in reluctant concession.

"Very true, Detective Goren. I apologise. All I can say is to just grit your teeth and do your best to put up with the disruption. Like I said, with any luck this lot will be done and gone in fairly short time."

"What makes anyone think that they're going to have anymore luck than the rest of us in solving this?" Ross asked, even as Bradshaw turned to leave. The Chief of Detectives hesitated, and then looked back at them.

"I can't answer that. All I can say is that the President himself has enough confidence to give them a free hand. Torchwood has priority, in _everything_." He paused, looking around the squad room ruefully, and specifically at Mike and Bobby. "I won't be so stupid as to say try and make them welcome. We all know that they're not, and I would hope they're not so idiotic as to think otherwise. But for your own sakes, stay out of their way and don't start any fights with them. I don't know what this Torchwood is all about, but I know someone in UNIT who has had a run-in with this Captain Jack Harkness in the past, and he said to be careful."

"In what way?" Ross asked with a frown.

"Nothing specific," Bradshaw said with an apologetic shrug. "Just to be careful. I got the impression that the man might be dangerous."

Then the Chief was gone, leaving them all to wonder exactly what they were in for.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Alex asked softly once she and Bobby were seated back at their desks. He took a moment to think about it before speaking in a tone of mild surprise.

"I feel okay. The nausea... It's gone."

"Ross was right, wasn't he?" Alex mused, regarding him over her laptop. "You've had some sort of physical reaction to every one of those crime scenes. Vertigo... Migraine... Nausea... What's that about? You're not getting queasy in your old age, are you?"

Bobby found himself having to resist the urge to poke his tongue out at her.

"Funny, Eames. No, I'm not. I don't know what's causing it. I wish I did. It just doesn't make any sense."

Alex sat back in her chair, looked at him critically.

"There has to be some reasonable explanation behind it. Maybe you're having a reaction to that gloop that was left behind on each of the victims."

Bobby paused in his work, considering that for a minute before dismissing it.

"Maybe if I'd touched it directly, but I didn't. The only time I came into direct contact with it was at the first crime scene we attended. After that, I left it for CSU to deal with, and none of them got sick or had any sort of reaction."

"No, it was just you," Alex murmured. "Always just you…"

"I don't know what caused it," Bobby said with a slight shrug. He paused, his eyes narrowing as his gaze fixed on something or someone beyond her line of sight. "And it doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

Alex looked around slowly, and as she did so she became aware of the lethal quiet that had suddenly descended on the squad room. She turned fully in her chair, and saw that the reason for the sudden tension had just walked in.

The Torchwood team had arrived, striding into the squad room like they owned the place, just as they had done at the crime scene. They were all laden with equipment, some of which seemed vaguely familiar to Alex and other items which were utterly foreign to her.

As before, the man who had identified himself as a captain to them led the way, virtually brimming with an over-confidence that left Alex seriously wanting to slap that smug smile right off his too-handsome-for-anyone's-good face. Ross emerged from his office, still looking blacker than a thunder cloud, and went to meet the newcomers with as much civility as he could muster.

"Captain Harkness."

Jack nodded in greeting.

"Captain Ross. We were told to see you about space to work in."

Once more, Ross flushed with anger, thoroughly unimpressed with the inference that the Major Case Squad was voluntarily surrendering a portion of their work space to the usurpers. He said nothing to that effect, though, and instead pointed stiffly to the recently emptied offices.

"Our three biggest task rooms over there have been cleared out for you."

Jack nodded and looked back at his team.

"Okay, guys. Get set up as fast as you can. Tosh, I want you to take charge of the tests on the fluid on the body. Ianto, help her with that. Owen, get what you need and head down to the morgue and check all eight bodies. You know what to look for. Gwen, I want you to talk to those two detectives who were at the scene earlier."

"Jack, they're right there," Gwen murmured uncomfortably, attempting to glance incongruously at Bobby and Alex. Jack appeared unconcerned, already turning back to Ross.

"We're going to need all your files on this case, and I mean _every_ _copy_."

Ross blanched again.

"Captain…"

"No," Jack said shortly. "Listen to me closely, Captain Ross. I don't want to have to say this again. This is our case now. We appreciate that you're not happy about us walking in and taking over, but that's the way it has to be. Your people are not equipped to handle this killer."

Ross stared back at him, mildly nonplussed by the hardness in the other man's pale blue eyes.

"But you are."

"It's what Torchwood is all about," Jack answered simply. "We don't expect you to like us, but we're here and I'll tell you right now that if you and your people cooperate with us we'll be out of your way a lot sooner than if you don't."

Ross looked past Jack to where Bobby and Alex were sitting, glaring daggers at the brash captain. They weren't going to like this anymore than he did, but he couldn't see any other way out of it.

"I'll have someone put all the files together for you," he said tersely. "Is that all?"

Jack paused, staring first at Ross and then around at the rest of the squad. The multitude of hostile stares was not lost even on him. When he spoke, it was not only to Ross but to the entire squad.

"We're here to help, not to steal anyone's thunder. You may not care to believe me right now, but the fact that you haven't found this killer is not in any way a reflection on your abilities to do your jobs. The best you can do now is to stand back and let us deal with it."

Nodding to Ross in an uncharacteristically diplomatic gesture of acknowledgement, Jack then turned and strode across the squad room, disappearing into the first of the task rooms, where his team were working to set up their equipment.

"One point to the captain with the dodgy credentials and the retro taste in clothes," Alex muttered once the task room door had swung shut. Ross walked over to her, a quizzical look on his face.

"Dodgy credentials?" he echoed. She nodded, turned her laptop so that Ross could see the screen more clearly.

"I ran a quick search. Assuming I've spelt it right, the only Jack Harkness I can find disappeared in Britain during World War II."

Ross's frown deepened, if that were even possible.

"I suppose that this Torchwood could be a secret branch of MI6. See what you can get out of the woman when she talks to you both."

Alex grinned, already looking forward to letting her partner take a shot at one of the members of the team that had usurped them from their case.

"It'll be our pleasure, Captain."

* * *

_tbc..._


	5. Crossed Jurisdictions

"That was uncharacteristically diplomatic of you, Jack," Gwen remarked with just the faintest hint of sarcasm as he joined them in the first task room. Jack didn't try to hide his smirk as he pulled the shades on the windows, effectively putting a stop to any unwanted attention.

"Rule one. Try to piss off the natives as little as possible when you have to operate on their turf. You saw them. They were just about ready to shoot all of us."

"But still," Gwen mused with a smile. Jack shrugged as he stepped over to help Ianto lift a particularly heavy piece of equipment.

"Doesn't hurt to try and avoid burning _all_ the bridges, and we pissed them off enough at the scene earlier."

"We?" Owen retorted. "What do you mean _we_, Harkness? _You're_ the one who got in that other captain's face and practically decimated his authority in front of his subordinates."

"Subordinates," Gwen teased him. "That's an awfully big word for you, Owen."

"Shut up, Gwen," Owen grumbled. Tosh paused, looking at Jack in concern.

"Jack? Are you okay?"

Abrupt silence fell as all eyes turned to the captain. Jack had paled, and was looking just the slightest bit unsteady. At Tosh's words, though, he snapped out of it and came back to reality. His gaze went to Owen, and when he spoke it was in a forcibly calm voice.

"Don't use that word."

Owen blinked, confused.

"What word?"

"Decimate."

It came out of Jack's mouth like he was spitting out poison, and they all saw the shudder that passed through him as he said it. Owen appeared on the verge of arguing, or perhaps making some derogatory comment, only to stop himself as he took a good look at Jack. Finally, he nodded and spoke with no trace of amusement or mocking in his tone.

"Sure, Jack. _Are_ you okay?"

Jack deliberately ignored the question, shaking himself out of his momentary daze, and a familiar, cheeky grin lit up his face.

"And besides, did you get a look at any of them? Who knew there'd be so many hot cops here? Can't wait to…"

"Stop it," Ianto growled, only half-joking, while Owen, Gwen and Tosh made no effort to hide their amusement. Jack threw him an incredulous look.

"I was going to say, I can't wait to meet them."

"My point exactly," Ianto replied passively. Jack raised an eyebrow at him, and for a long moment the two men locked stares, with Ianto not quite able to completely hide a smirk.

"How long before we're ready to go?" Jack asked abruptly, deciding it was high time to move the conversation on. "Tosh?"

"Ten minutes," Tosh answered, turning her attention to the laptop that she was in the process of booting up. "I just need to link up to the Hub's mainframe and databases. It won't be long."

"Good," Jack murmured. "Owen, take the scanner and head down to the morgue. I want the readings on the victims as soon as possible."

"Okay," Owen agreed, collecting the small bag in which the deep tissue scanner was held and heading for the door.

"Just a second, Jack," Gwen spoke up. "Assuming you're right about what killed those people, how do we go about catching it?"

"Specifically," Owen added, pausing just before heading out, "_are_ we planning on catching it? Or did you have something else in mind?"

Silence met Owen's question, and Jack suddenly found himself the focus of four intense stares, not exactly hostile but definitely concerned.

"We're going to try and catch it," Jack told them quietly, sincerely. "If we can catch it alive, I have a friend who'll be able to deal with it. We're not killing it unless we have no choice."

"You've changed your attitude, Jack," Owen retorted. Jack regarded him wryly.

"Would you rather I said we're going to just blow it out of existence?"

"No, but at least we knew what to expect before. This new warm and fuzzy Jack is a little disconcerting, if you don't mind me saying so."

Jack couldn't help the smile that quirked his lips in reaction to Owen's remark.

"Get moving, Owen. I need to know what you find with the victims' bodies."

Owen nodded and pushed the door open.

"If you don't hear from me within the next hour, it probably means I've been shot by some demented New York copper who's got it in for Special Ops."

Jack grunted as the door swung shut again behind Owen.

"I think he might have more to worry about from their Medical Examiner. Gwen?"

She looked up from where she had been helping Ianto to boot up the rest of the laptops.

"What is it, Jack?"

"I want you to go and talk to those two detectives."

"What, now?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Unless you had something better to do…?"

Gwen reddened slightly.

"Sorry. Okay… I'll go and do that, then."

"Oh, and Gwen," Jack added as she headed for the door. She paused, looking back at him questioningly. Jack's expression was deadly serious as he spoke to her. "Don't let them intimidate you. This may be their territory, but we've got the authority. Don't forget that. And don't let them try to wheedle anything out of you, either."

"I'm not a newbie anymore, Jack," Gwen told him reprovingly. "I think I can handle a couple of Yankee coppers."

Jack nodded.

"I hope so. But just in case, keep your earpiece switched on. If you have any problems, I'll know about it."

She stared at him scathingly.

"So you can come running to my rescue? I can deal with it, Jack."

She marched out of the room before he had the chance to respond. Jack watched her go, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, not sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

"She'll be fine, Jack," Tosh insisted, not taking her eyes off the laptop screen in front of her. "Have a little faith."

Jack swallowed a sigh as he leaned back gingerly against the wall of the office.

"It's not Gwen that I'm worried about."

Tosh paused then in what she was doing to exchange a concerned glance with Ianto. Neither one of them needed a translation program to know what Jack was really talking about. He was deeply worried, and probably with good reason, that the detectives in question would not be satisfied with simply handing the case over to Torchwood. There was little they could do, though, except to hope that the Americans showed some common sense, and stayed well away from business that simply didn't concern them.

* * *

The moment that Gwen walked out of the task room, she could feel the eyes of the entire Major Case Squad zeroing in on her. She paused, taking in a long breath before having to will herself away from the door. She clung almost ferociously to Jack's words as she approached the desk where the two detectives in question were sitting, telling herself over and over again that she had authority over them in this particular case. It took some effort not to pull a face. She just hoped that she could pull it off.

Walking over to the conjoined desks with all the confidence she could muster, she was almost painfully aware of the pervasive stares that the two detectives were sending in her direction. All of a sudden, she felt markedly less than sure of herself, and had to actively fight against a desire to turn and flee back to the safety of the task room, and Jack's all-encompassing protection.

Damn it, she was Gwen Cooper, former Cardiff copper, and member of Torchwood! No copper – British, American or otherwise – was going to succeed in intimidating her. Bolstered by her own bold thoughts, Gwen picked up her pace and walked briskly across the room.

She came to a halt by their desks, and was very nearly undone by the piercing, suspicious looks she was getting from them both. It reminded her a little too vividly of Andy back home, and every time that she'd run into him at a crime scene. The last time that she'd seen him had been just before she and her colleagues had stupidly allowed themselves to be tricked into opening up the rift. Then, she and Jack had gone to collect a Roman soldier from police custody, and she acutely remembered the derisive sneer and disbelieving words he'd muttered at the idea of something... _anything_ supernatural.

'Mulder and Scully', Andy had called her and Jack, and she couldn't help but wonder just how long it would be before similar jokes were going around this place.

Authority, she reminded herself, and spoke as formally as she could bring herself to.

"My name's Gwen Cooper. I need to speak to you both about your involvement with the case."

The detectives exchanged glances, each one thinking the same thing, and quietly delighted to be given such an early opportunity to mess with one of the interlopers.

"_Just_ Gwen Cooper?" Alex queried in a deceptively pleasant voice. "Not Agent Cooper? Or Detective Cooper?"

It was with some effort that Gwen resisted the urge to point out her previous career with the Cardiff police. Somehow, she doubted that introducing herself as former Police Constable Gwen Cooper would be in any way impressive to these two detectives.

"We don't bother using pointless titles," she answered in what she sincerely hoped was a dismissive tone. "It's just Gwen Cooper, Torchwood."

Again, Bobby and Alex exchanged pointed looks, and Gwen had the sudden, unnerving sensation that they were somehow reading each other's thoughts.

"So..." Bobby began mildly, "if you don't bother with _pointless _titles, then your captain..."

Gwen raised an eyebrow nonchalantly.

"What about him?"

A slight smile cross Bobby's face.

"So, his title of captain means what, exactly...?"

Gwen couldn't help flinching slightly, and quietly cursed herself for the unintentional slip. Both detectives had definitely seen it, for their delight was even more obvious than before. She resisted an urge to look back over her shoulder, as though suddenly fearful that she would find Jack was watching her – perhaps evaluating her on how succinctly she dealt with these two brash detectives.

Steeling herself, she took a deliberate step back and motioned to the second, as yet empty task room.

"I'd like to speak with you both. Now, please."

For a third time, the detectives exchanged a surreptitious glance, neither one as yet making any effort to move from their seats. For nearly a minute they were locked in a stalemate, and just as Gwen was starting to think they were going to completely disregard her, Bobby finally pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the task room.

"In here?" he asked, with more than a hint of the sardonic in his tone. "Exactly in here?"

Biting back a powerful desire to make a sarcastic remark, Gwen nodded brusquely. She waited for them to walk inside, and then followed. She wasn't quite quick enough in pulling the door closed to avoid hearing the sniggering laughter that washed across the squad room, and quietly fumed at the heat that rose in her cheeks.

"So, Gwen Cooper of Torchwood," Bobby said with not-quite-concealed amusement. "What did you want to know?"

Gwen stared intently at him for several long seconds without speaking, and he responded in kind.

"Detective...?" she asked, careful to keep her tone bland and mildly uninterested.

"Goren," he answered, obviously deciding to show some degree of civility. "Detective Bobby Goren, and my senior partner, Detective Alex Eames."

Gwen nodded in appreciation.

"Thankyou. When did you take on this case?"

Once more, the two detectives looked at each other, and Gwen was starting to suspect she'd made a mistake in talking to them together. She could almost hear Jack's voice in her head, half-teasing and half-reprimanding her for making such a rookie blunder. From the looks of it, the detectives sitting across from her were thinking much the same thing, and intending on taking full advantage of it. If they decided to gang up on her, she thought ruefully, she wouldn't have a chance.

"We were given the case with the fourth victim," Alex answered, deciding to be cooperative at least for the moment. "The Homicide squad that caught it to start with hadn't made any progress. The brass was getting antsy..."

"Sorry... brass?" Gwen interrupted, puzzled by the term of reference. Bobby answered, and this time there was no mocking in his tone.

"Our superior officers. The Chief of Detectives, the Commissioner..."

"The Mayor, the Governor," Alex added dryly. Gwen raised an eyebrow, recognising the subtle rancour in her tone only too well.

"Let me guess. Politics always interfering, getting in the way of getting the job done?"

"You sound like you know what it's like," Bobby said, flashing her a warm and sincere smile, and Gwen smiled wryly in response.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. A year ago, I was a PC with CID in Cardiff. There was always interference of one sort or another in the job. Got to the point where we couldn't do a thing without some bloody politician hovering at our shoulders."

"A year ago?" Bobby mused. "So what happened to make you leave the police and join up with a group like Torchwood?"

At that, Gwen's expression faltered and for a brief moment she was caught up in her memories. A rainy night, and a glove that brought people back to life... Suzie, and the alien knife... Jack being shot in the head and then getting up again, as though nothing had happened...

She blinked, and her vision came back into focus to find both Bobby and Alex watching her with intense interest.

"It was time for a change," she answered simply. "Tell me about the first scene you attended."

Bobby's eyebrows lifted just slightly at Gwen's apparent indifference, but he decided not to comment on it. At least, not right then.

"There was no difference between that scene, and all the others," Bobby said. "The bodies of the victims were all in the exact same state."

"No witnesses?" Gwen asked, and Alex shook her head.

"No, which you'd know if you'd waited to read the case files before talking to us."

If the remark was intended to sting, it missed its mark. Instead, Gwen actually smiled in response.

"Maybe so," she agreed, "but I prefer talking to people directly." She looked across at Bobby. "Don't you?"

Bobby couldn't resist smiling, seeing a budding profiler in the young woman.

"Yes," he admitted. "We do. Tell us, Miss Cooper..."

"Please, just call me Gwen," she told them. "I hate being called Miss Cooper. Sounds so ruddy formal."

Bobby chuckled, despite himself. He'd intended to thoroughly crush this young woman into verbal submission, but the more they talked the more he found himself beginning to respect her. It couldn't be easy for someone like her to find their confidence around a booming personality like her captain.

"Call me Bobby, then. Tell us, Gwen, what exactly can Torchwood do here that we can't?"

At that, Gwen smiled, and there was something not so pleasant in that smile.

"You'll have to just trust us, there, Bobby. Tell me about the crime scenes. Was there anything unusual?" She paused, and laughed softly at the absurdity of her own question. "Aside from the obvious, that is."

Bobby was already starting to shake his head, but a look flashed across Alex's face that set alarms off in Gwen's mind.

"What?" she asked, turning a quizzical look on the other woman. "What are you thinking about?"

Alex paused in answering, looking warily at her partner. She knew it was relevant, although she didn't understand how. Whether Bobby would appreciate it being dragged into the open, though, was a matter of opinion. Still, in the spirit of cooperation...

"Bobby has had a physical reaction at every one of the scenes we've attended," she said abruptly, ignoring the dark look that he threw in her direction. Gwen's interest very clearly piqued at hearing that piece of news.

"Oh, right? What sort of reaction?"

"Nausea," Alex said. "Migraines..."

"Vertigo," Bobby added ruefully, and with a great deal of reluctance. Gwen had produced a small notepad from within her jacket, and was busy writing down the symptoms that the detectives were quoting.

"How long have they lasted for?" Gwen asked. "The symptoms, that is."

"Only for as long as we've been at each of the crime scenes," Bobby admitted. "Except for the migraine. That lasted all day. Does it mean anything to you?"

"No," Gwen admitted. "But you never know what might be relevant, right?"

Again, Bobby smiled faintly. He really was starting to like her.

"Right," he agreed.

"Your boss," Alex said abruptly, and Gwen's eyebrows shot up.

"Better not let him hear you call him that. He hates the word boss. He especially hates it when it's applied to him."

"But he is your boss, isn't he?" Alex pressed. Gwen nodded.

"Yes, but we prefer to think of Jack as our leader, not our boss."

"And you call him Jack, not 'Captain'," Alex threw in, frowning.

"Oh, aye. Ianto is the only one who ever calls him 'sir', and I think he does that just to piss Jack off."

"You have a very casual working relationship there," Bobby pointed out. Gwen nodded.

"Yes, that's true. But it's what works for us. We're not like you, we don't operate in the same way. Don't ask me to explain that, because I can't."

"Go on," Alex encouraged her, her tone just a little too clipped for it to be purely conversational. "Give it a try."

Gwen paused, thinking back to that night in the pub, when Jack had told her candidly what Torchwood did, and then ret-conned her. Hoping that she could make it sound as definitive as Jack had, she spoke firmly.

"We're Torchwood. We're outside the police, above the government and beyond the United Nations."

"Sounds like the CIA," Alex muttered, not sure whether to laugh or groan.

"Who does Torchwood answer to?" Bobby asked, frowning. Again, Gwen hesitated, wondering how best to answer that somewhat loaded question. As it happened, she was rescued from further difficulties when the door suddenly opened, and Jack strode in. She found herself cringing at the sight of his dark features.

"Gwen, go and help Tosh," he told her. "Now."

She went without argument, though she favoured him with an angry glare as she went, humiliated by what she saw as an unwarranted interruption. Jack watched her go, closing the door firmly behind her before turning back to face the two detectives. He said nothing, but simply stood there with his arms crossed forbiddingly across his chest, and staring at them with an expression that left both Bobby and Alex feeling slightly off-kilter.

Gwen had clearly been an inexperienced rookie, but this man was not, and even Bobby hesitated in actively engaging him in a verbal battle. Jack advanced slowly towards the desk, and they had to concede that he cut a very imposing figure.

"Tell me one thing, Detectives," Jack said bluntly. "Are you more interested in the killer being stopped, or protecting your own reputations?"

It was a deliberately aimed barb, and it well and truly hit home. Alex was on her feet so fast that Jack had to make a conscious effort not to step backwards.

"Excuse us? You're the ones who have barged in here and taken over! We've been working our asses off on this case!"

"And how far has it gotten you?" Jack asked without so much as blinking.

"You son of a bitch," Alex snarled, but Jack appeared unconcerned by her anger.

"Yeah, been called that before," he mused. "Seriously, though, we are not messing around here. Now, we were told you lot are professionals. Do yourselves and this city a favour, and cooperate."

"I bet you have a regular turn-over of staff," Alex snarked at him. Jack favoured them both with a quasi-sympathetic smile which only served to infuriate her further.

"You'd be surprised. Torchwood is not something you quit. Ever." And then, abruptly, the smile vanished in the blink of an eye and Alex found herself the focus of a hard stare that could easily have rivalled Bobby's skills.

"Sit down, Detective Eames. We're not done yet."

When Alex hesitated, glaring defiantly at Jack, Bobby took the liberty of reaching up to touch her very lightly on the hand.

"Eames, please... This isn't getting us anywhere. Just sit. Please..."

With an audible noise of frustration that raised the tiniest of smiles in both men, Alex sat down again with a heavy thud. Satisfied, Jack took up the seat which Gwen had occupied only a minute before.

"These attacks that you've been experiencing at the crime scenes," he started to say, turning his attention to Bobby. "With the exception of the migraine, each time it only lasted for as long as you were at the crime scene?"

The confused expression on both detectives' faces was priceless, and if the situation hadn't been so serious, Jack would have laughed.

"How did you know about those?" Alex demanded to know incredulously. "That's not common knowledge!"

Bobby, however, spoke in wonder before Jack had a chance to reply.

"Your earpieces. That's Bluetooth technology. You were listening in from the moment we came in here with Gwen, weren't you?"

Jack smiled amusedly, and nodded in confirmation.

"Very good, Detective. Very observant. Yes, you're right. Bluetooth, combined with global satellite technology. As long as the earpieces are switched on, they allow us to stay in communication with each other at all times, no matter where we are. The range is unlimited. It's a little more convenient and secure than your standard cell phone."

"Are we done?" Alex asked in a snappish tone, irritated by Bobby's almost child-like fascination with the fancy technology. "We have work to do."

"Not quite, Detective," Jack replied, not taking his gaze from Bobby for even a moment. "You haven't answered my question yet."

Bobby fell silent, staring sourly at Jack. He answered, though, as if a small part of him knew deep down that he had no choice but to answer the question. He spoke, hoping this mysterious captain would not drop him in hot water with Ross.

"Except for the migraine, it only lasts for as long as we're at each scene. Once we've left, it goes away."

Jack's expression was unreadable as he stared at him hard, much to Bobby's frustration. He was more than a little disturbed to find that he couldn't read anything at all in those pale blue eyes. It was almost as though there was a veil there, shielding Jack from him.

"Describe it," Jack told him, his tone brooking no argument. Bobby hesitated nevertheless, momentarily thrown. He'd tried damned hard _not_ to think about it, and to put his complete focus on the case.

"I'm not asking you for my own amusement," Jack told him. "It could be important. Please tell me the truth."

Bobby resisted a powerful urge to sigh, and finally made himself answer, all the while acutely aware of Alex's piercing stare on him. He didn't have to be a genius to know that she was pissed off with him, and he supposed that she had every right to be. He'd not been totally honest with her over these attacks, over how bad they really were, and he'd never intended for her to find out. Something in Jack's tone compelled him to give full disclosure, though, and as the words came spilling out Bobby could only hope she was not too angry with him.

"It's been something different every time. The first scene that we went to, I just felt dizzy... bad vertigo... although I've never had vertigo before. I walked around feeling like I was going to tip over any second."

"I remember," Alex said ruefully. "I had a hell of a time convincing Ross that you weren't drunk or hung over. One of the uniforms at the scene saw you stumbling around, and reported back to him that you turned up drunk."

"Thanks," Bobby muttered, not entirely sure whether to be pleased at hearing that. Jack fought back a smirk, his thoughts momentarily encompassed by an image of Bobby stumbling drunkenly around a crime scene.

"What else?" he pressed. Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face. When they'd allowed Gwen to usher them inside that room, both he and Alex had had visions of turning her interview around, and making her into the one being interrogated. They'd almost succeeded, but then Captain Jack Harkness had taken control, and now the tables had been turned yet again. Realising he had no option but to cooperate, at least right then, Bobby answered the question.

"The next time, it was bizarre, like I was walking around with a... a wet towel wrapped around my head. I could barely think straight. The next time was the migraine... And at the last scene I had..."

He trailed off, glancing from Jack to Alex and looking painfully uneasy. Jack sat forward a little, sensing something of mild interest on the horizon.

"What?"

"Cramps," Bobby admitted ruefully. Alex eyed him incredulously, as though she couldn't quite believe what had just come out of his mouth.

"Excuse me?"

"Abdominal cramps?" Jack asked. "Like PMS?"

To Alex's amusement, a bright flush rose in Bobby's cheeks and he looked seriously as though he wanted to sink under the table and into the floor.

"I wouldn't know," he retorted. "I don't exactly have any basis for comparison."

"No wonder you wouldn't say anything," Alex snorted, and his flush deepened even more. "This is great. My partner has PMS..."

"And this morning?" Jack pressed, deciding to move the discussion on. Bobby looked moderately grateful for the obvious tactic.

"Nausea," he answered. "Thought I was going to be sick from the second I got out of the SUV."

Jack frowned to himself as he tossed the information over in his mind.

"These attacks..."

"I wouldn't exactly call them attacks," Bobby protested with a frown. Jack shrugged, uncaring about the description that they used.

"Attacks, afflictions, whatever you want to call them. They all started the moment you arrived at the crime scenes?"

"The second I'd get out of the SUV," Bobby admitted. "And they'd stop again the moment I got back into the SUV."

"Except for the migraine," Alex corrected him.

"Yes, but even that wasn't as bad as it was at the scene, right?" Jack threw in. Bobby eyed him briefly before conceding.

"Right. By the time we got back here, it was more like an echo. Bad... but not _as_ bad."

"You think this is important, or relevant somehow," Alex said, frowning at Jack. The Captain sat back calmly, and regarded them with a passive interest.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But we need to look at everything. Don't we?"

For nearly a minute, they stared at Jack while he stared right back at them, like they were caught in the middle of some strange showdown. Eventually, the silence was broken when Alex spoke tersely.

"Are we done yet?"

"Almost," Jack assured her. He stood up, then, drawing himself up to his full height and staring at them with an unflinching gaze. "I want you both to listen very carefully to what I'm going to say now. I won't be repeating it. Keep out of our way, Detectives. Don't get any ideas about following us around in the hope that I'll give in and say all right, you can tag along. It's not going to happen. However, if you do decide to ignore me, and you follow us, just remember this. If you... either of you... put my team in danger through trying to put your noses where they don't belong, you'll get to see me angry, and believe me when I tell you that's the last thing you want. You do not want to see me angry."

Aware as he was of Alex's aggravated reaction to the mysterious captain, Bobby stared up at Jack, increasingly intrigued by the sketchy profile that he was starting to form in his mind.

"You care about them," he murmured. Jack returned his gaze, steady and calm, and Bobby could have sworn that he looked amused.

"They're my team," he said simply. "My responsibility. Yes, I care about them." He held off from adding that the many trials they'd gone through together had been one of the prime catalysts for bringing them closer than they'd ever been before... and also the catalyst for his extreme protectiveness. None of that was their business, he told himself."

"A secretive captain in charge of a secretive group," Alex remarked. "You're very mysterious, Captain Harkness."

The first hints of a smile appeared on Jack's lips, and he couldn't resist the opportunity, as he saw it being presented. She was, after all, a very attractive woman... and he didn't think that her partner was all that bad to look at, either.

"It's all a part of the charm, Detective Eames," he quipped to her. "I could give you a chance to get to know me better..."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Ianto's voice reverberated firmly in his ear.

'_Stop it, sir_.'

Jack blinked, caught by surprise by the admonishment, and resolved to ask later whether Ianto had happened to talk to a certain Doctor at some point since his return home. Shaking off his bemusement, he looked to see the Detectives staring at him, neither one looking especially impressed.

_Damn_, he thought in annoyance, unsure whether to blame himself or Ianto's unwanted interruption.

"Who the hell are you?" Alex asked suddenly, a dark frown creasing her brow. Jack's amusement was back as fast as it had vanished, and so was the big grin.

"I'm Captain Jack Harkness," he informed her.

"We checked up on you," she shot back at him. "The only Captain Jack Harkness we could find went missing in World War II. Since you're a little young to be him, we have to wonder who you really are."

Jack's grin widened, given the detectives the distinct impression that he was actually thoroughly enjoying their attempt at interrogating him.

"Oh, you'd be surprised at how old I really am, Detective Eames."

"Go ahead, then," she shot back. "Amaze me."

Impossibly, his grin grew even wider in response to her verbal challenge.

"I would _love_ to amaze you, Detective Eames, believe me... but another time, perhaps. Right now..." He paused, looking from her back to Bobby. "I think you've both told me everything you can. So now you have your job to do, and we have ours. Do yourselves as well as us a favour, and pretend we're not even here."

"Easier said than done," Bobby pointed out as Jack abruptly wheeled around and strode from the room. Once he'd gone, Bobby looked across at Alex, eyebrows raised. She had a similar look on her face.

"First time they leave the building," Alex said in a low voice, "we grab Logan and follow them. This was our case, and I am not giving it up to the Scooby Squad."

Bobby nodded in wordless agreement, although he couldn't stop the uneasy feeling that invaded his gut, warning him that such action would be a dreadful mistake.

* * *

"I never pegged you for being the jealous type," Jack remarked sourly to Ianto as he walked back into their makeshift Hub. Ianto couldn't resist a smirk.

"I'm not, sir. But do you really think flirting with a detective that you've just booted off a high profile case is going to prove... fruitful?"

"You're underestimating my skills," Jack admonished him, but again Ianto only smiled.

"Not at all, sir. I'm well-versed in your skills, if you'll remember, and I'd never dream of underestimating them."

Where she sat at her laptop, Toshiko coughed conspicuously. Jack deliberately ignored her, but what he couldn't continue to ignore were Gwen's eyes, boring holes in his back. Bracing himself, he turned to face her directly.

"Out with it," he told her. She glowered at him.

"Out with what?"

"Don't play games, Gwen. Just say it. You're mad at me."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she snapped. "Just because you sent me to talk to those detectives, and then walked in and took over like I was some stupid rookie..."

"I shouldn't have asked you to do it in the first place," Jack told her. "It's not a reflection on you. Those are seasoned detectives. You weren't ready to deal with them. It was my mistake, not yours."

She snorted derisively.

"Oh, well, thankyou so much! That makes me feel so much better!"

Jack sighed heavily, deciding he wasn't prepared to deal with tantrums from anyone on his team.

"Gwen, you wanna be mad at me? Fine, but save it until this is over, and we're home again. I really don't have the time or the patience for this. Okay?"

She stared at him, and he could almost feel the daggers in her glare. But then, finally, she conceded with a nod and the anger subsided in her eyes.

"Okay," she said quietly. Jack couldn't quite conceal his relief.

"Thankyou."

Before Jack had a chance to say anything more, there was a sharp rap on the door. Looking from Gwen to Ianto and Tosh in mild surprise, Jack walked over and opened the door to find a grim-faced Captain Ross at the door.

"Captain Harkness," Ross said tersely, not giving Jack a chance to speak a word. "Would you mind accompanying me down to the morgue?"

At the word 'morgue', Jack's first thought was that Owen had been filleted by one of the Medical Examiners. Grimacing, he nodded and stepped out of the task room, taking care to pull the door closed behind him.

* * *

"Is there a problem, Captain Ross?" Jack asked as they stepped into the elevator. Ross grimaced, again looking very much as though he'd prefer to be elsewhere.

"Of a sort. Let's just say that apparently our Medical Examiner and your Dr Harper are having a difference of opinion down in the morgue, and I would really like to see it resolved as quickly as possible." He threw a sharp look of warning at Jack, continuing to speak before Jack could get a word out. "Your team might have priority, but we still have to co-exist in this building. If you and your people can't accept that, then we are going to have some real problems."

Silence met Ross's words and, for a minute as the elevator descended, Jack just stared wordlessly at the wall. When he did finally speak, it was in a genuinely apologetic tone that left Ross feeling mildly disconcerted.

"I'm sorry, Captain Ross. You're right. I'll talk to Owen, and to the rest of my team."

Ross blinked in surprise, completely taken aback. It was obvious that he hadn't expected such whole-hearted agreement from Jack.

"This might surprise you, Captain Ross, but I'm not a total bastard. I do know how to play with others, when I have to."

Ross huffed slightly, holding back from making an unnecessarily snide remark about certain detectives needing to learn to do the same.

"Right. Wait until you meet our ME, and see if you still think that way."

Jack raised his eyebrows in amusement, but said nothing.

* * *

They could hear the angry voices the moment that the elevator doors slid open. Jack could hear Owen's frustrated voice, intermixed with that of a very angry woman. He looked quizzically at Ross, who nodded in confirmation.

"Our ME," he replied to the unspoken question, and Jack groaned softly and rocked back slightly on his heels.

"All right, then. Let's get this worked out so that we can both get back to work. Lead the way, Captain Ross."

The sight that met them was akin to a high noon stand-off, Jack mused ruefully as they found Owen and ME Rodgers almost nose to nose, and neither one willing to back down.

"Jack!" Owen burst out as soon he spotted him walking in with Ross. "About bloody time. She won't let me anywhere near the bloody bodies."

"Rodgers," Ross said wearily, "we were ordered to cooperate. That included you, I believe."

Rodgers turned a furious glare on the captain, and spoke with pure venom in her voice.

"I am not letting that little swine into my morgue!" she snarled. Jack looked back at Owen with a frown.

"What did you say to her, Owen?"

"You just assume it was me?" Owen retorted. "That is an insult, Captain."

Jack had to actively fight back a smirk, knowing that his humour probably wouldn't be appreciated by anyone at that point.

"It's only an insult if it's not true. What did you say to her?"

"His words," Rodgers fumed, "were along the lines of 'step aside, sweetheart, the professionals are here now'."

Both Jack and Ross winced at the revelation – Jack, because of the outright tactlessness of the remark, and Ross because he knew what had happened to the last unfortunate soul who stupidly called Rodgers 'sweetheart'.

"Owen, c'mere," Jack muttered, slinging an arm around Owen's shoulders and leading him away to where they could talk. Ross watched them go, and then looked back to Rodgers, who was still fuming.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "If I had my way, they would never have set foot inside the building."

"Why the hell are they here?" Rodgers demanded to know. "What good is it possibly going to do?"

"I don't know," Ross admitted tiredly. "I really do not know."

* * *

"Owen, when I said not to take any crap, I didn't mean this!" Jack hissed. Owen shrugged unapologetically.

"Okay, so maybe it was a little tactless. She still can't keep me out!"

"No," Jack agreed. "She can't. But I'd prefer to not have to call the President again, just because we need validation, because we can't get along with the locals!"

"You get me past that old Trojan," Owen told him tensely, "and I'll try playing nicely. I promise, okay?"

Jack regarded him ruefully.

"You'd better, Owen. We need the space to work."

"You really want me to be all nice and cooperative?" Owen told him shortly. "You know what you need to do. You need Teaboy upstairs to start working his coffee magic. I'm deprived, Jack. I need that fix! Especially after getting straight off a goddamn twenty hour plane flight and having to jump straight into work!"

Jack sighed. Owen definitely had a point.

"Okay. I'll get you in there, you get to work, and I'll talk to Ianto about coffee."

Owen nodded, placated.

"That's what I needed to hear."

Suppressing the desire to slap the younger man up-side the head, Jack walked back over to where Ross and Rodgers were waiting.

"I've spoken to Owen. He understands that this is your area, and he's just a guest. Right, Owen?"

Owen nodded, and put on the most genuine smile that he could manage, jet-lagged as he was.

"Right. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to come out like it did. We just got of a twenty-plus hour flight from Cardiff, and to have to jump straight into it… I wasn't exactly at the top of my game, you know? I really am genuinely sorry."

Ross glanced at Rodgers, and was relieved to see the scowl fade just a fraction. She looked from Owen to Jack, and then back to Owen again before nodding in reluctant concession.

"All right. Come with me, I'll show you the other seven victims."

Throwing Jack a smirk, Owen followed Rodgers through into the morgue.

"Gonna slap him so hard one of these days," Jack muttered, though there was a degree of affection in his voice that Ross couldn't help but pick up on.

"Let me guess," he said quietly as they headed back towards the elevator. "Worth the frustration?"

"Barely," Jack retorted. "Only barely."

* * *

_tbc..._


	6. Midnight Memories

_A/N: For the sake of anyone unfamiliar with Torchwood and, by default, Doctor Who, I think I need to make clear a few points, in direct relation to the final three episodes of season 3 of Doctor Who._

_For anyone who has not yet seen the season finale of Torchwood, and the final three eps of season 3 Doctor Who, the following points could be considered fairly major spoilers._

_1. Towards the end of the season finale of Torchwood, Owen shot Jack point blank in the head, and twice in the chest. Jack re-animated a couple of minutes later, much to the shock of his team. Up until that point, only Gwen had been aware of Jack's immortality.  
__2. Jack, along with the Doctor, was captured by the Master and imprisoned for one year aboard the sky ship, The Valiant. (see Doctor Who, **The Last of the Time Lords**)  
3. When the paradox machine was destroyed at the end of **The Last of the Time Lords**, time reversed itself, and consequently those on board the Valiant at that very moment have the burden of terrible memories of a year that never happened.  
4. Though it was never specified in the show itself, it's the general belief of fans that Jack was tortured and tormented horribly by the Master during his year in captivity. Point of reference: **The Sounds of Drums**. The Master, referring to Jack's temporarily lifeless body after shooting him down with his laser screwdriver: "And the good thing is, he isn't dead for long. I get to kill him again!"_

_For the purposes of this story, Jack did not rejoin the Doctor immediately after coming back to life after the incident with Abaddon, but rather approximately a week later._

_

* * *

_

That night  
_The Plaza Hotel_

"Is it just me," Owen mused as they sat around the large table in their hotel suite, "or are the American pizzas a lot better back home in Cardiff, than here in America?"

"That's purely psychosomatic," Ianto pointed out. Owen grunted as he grabbed yet another slice.

"I don't care what it is. It still isn't as good as back home."

"And yet that's his fifth piece," Jack mused.

"Screw you, Harkness," Owen shot back good-naturedly. Jack just laughed as he pushed aside his own plate in favour of a stack of files.

"What Ianto is trying to say," Tosh said, "is that nothing is ever as good as it is back home."

"If you're all done there," Jack spoke up in wry amusement, "we have work to do. We need to get through these files before tomorrow."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Jack, give us a break!" Gwen complained. "None of us can see straight. Just because you don't sleep doesn't mean we don't either."

Jack let his hands drop down to the top of the table, and he looked around at them slowly. Gwen was right, he realised. They were all nearly falling asleep at the table. None of them would absorb anything from the files, regardless of how long he insisted they stay up and read for.

"Okay," he conceded quietly. "Go to bed, get some sleep. But don't expect to get a lie in tomorrow."

"If you get us up before dawn, Jack, I might just shoot you," Owen grumbled. Jack raised an eyebrow slightly.

"You already did that once," he said, and a deathly silence abruptly fell. Owen, however, didn't miss a beat.

"Yeah, I did, and now that we know it's not permanent I might just be tempted to do it more often."

A grin spread across Jack's face, and he laughed openly.

"Go to bed, all of you. And thankyou."

"For what?" Tosh wondered, baffled. Jack regarded them all with a serious look.

"For coming here with me."

"There's no need to thank us, Jack," Gwen said, sounding vaguely surprised at his expression of gratitude. He regarded her seriously.

"Yes, there is. You didn't have to come. None of you did. I appreciate that you all agreed to come and help stop this… this thing."

"And let you have all the fun?" Owen snorted. "You must be joking."

Shaking his head in amusement, Owen got up and stretched before turning to head for his bedroom.

"'Night, all. And I'm not kidding, Jack. I do not want to be woken up before the sun is up tomorrow morning."

Jack couldn't resist a grin as the young doctor walked from the room.

"You guys all heard that, right?"

"Yes, why?" Tosh wondered. A smug look filled Jack's face.

"Because at the moment, sun-up here is around six o'clock in the morning. You guys are my witnesses, in case he really does try to shoot me."

Laughter erupted at the table and, one by one, the others excused themselves until only Jack and Ianto were left.

"Sir?" Ianto asked quietly even as Jack started to flip through the files on the table in front of him. "You're not really planning on sitting here reading those all night?"

Jack didn't look up at him, keeping his eyes fixed carefully on the first open file.

"Go and get some sleep, Ianto. While you can."

Ianto stood, torn over whether to do as Jack had told him, or whether to refuse. In the end, he settled for a compromise, and began to walk around the table, collecting the rubbish the others had left behind. Jack did look up, then, and the expression on his face was one of annoyance.

"Ianto, what do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice a half-growl. Ianto regarded him placidly, unperturbed.

"What does it look like?" he replied placidly. "I'm cleaning up."

"For God's sake, go to bed!"

"I will," Ianto conceded, "if you come with me."

Jack's eyebrows shot up, and a moment later a grin spread slowly across his face.

"Are you propositioning me?"

"Nothing quite so lurid, sir. All I'm saying is that you need sleep as well."

Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Ianto didn't give him a chance to say a word.

"We're all exhausted, Jack, including you. And don't say you're not. If you don't believe me, go and take a look at your reflection."

"What about it?" Jack demanded to know. Ianto didn't back down in the face of Jack's irritation, regarding him with visible sympathy.

"Jack, you look like you did just after you came back to life after defeating Abaddon."

That brought Jack back to reality with a painful jolt, and he sat back slowly. He knew only too well what Ianto was talking about. For a couple of days after coming back to life that time, he'd walked around with chalk-white features and large, dark shadows under his eyes. Finally, Ianto had lost patience with trying to tell him to rest, and had conspired with Owen to drug his coffee. He'd slept for the next two days.

Despite his aggravation at their tactics, Jack had been forced to admit that he felt better after getting some real rest. This was a different situation again, though, and his refusal to sleep had less to do with being busy than with his fear of the nightmares that waited for him to slumber.

The last time he'd slept, he had woken up screaming so hard that he'd lost his voice. That had been just under a week ago, and he'd not allowed himself to sleep again.

"I know about the nightmares, Jack," Ianto told him softly, and Jack looked up at him sharply. Ianto went on, hoping he wasn't overstepping some invisible boundary, and not particularly caring if he did. "I don't know what they're about, because you haven't explained anything to us yet, but I understand that. But even you can't go on indefinitely without sleep. Come to bed with me. Maybe it'll help, just not being alone."

"And maybe it won't," Jack answered back in a soft, bleak voice.

"Why don't we try and see?" Ianto pressed. He held a hand out to Jack expectantly and, after a long moment's consideration, Jack reached out and took it. A warm smile lit up Ianto's face, and he didn't hesitate to draw Jack up out of the chair.

"Good man," he murmured, and led Jack down the hallway to his allocated bedroom.

* * *

_Elsewhere in Manhattan_

"What did you really think of that Torchwood lot today?" Alex wondered as Bobby brought fresh coffee out from the kitchen of his apartment for them both. He looked thoughtful as he sank into the sofa beside her.

"I think their captain is an arrogant show-off," he said after a moment's contemplation. Alex laughed out loud at his succinct appraisal.

"And here I thought you'd been blinded by the gadgets."

Bobby smiled in reaction to her good-natured teasing.

"Not quite. I don't know about the rest of them, but that woman… Gwen… It seems like she's still trying to find her feet with them. It's not all that surprising, really, when she has to contend with _him_. She has potential, though. I think she could be a brilliant profiler, if she's just given the chance."

Alex didn't dispute him. Indeed, she had recognised the same potential in the young woman. She also agreed with him, though, about the group's larger-than-life leader.

"They didn't exactly operate like you'd expect," she mused. "It'll be interesting to see what goes on tomorrow."

Bobby glanced sideways at her.

"He was flirting with you."

A ghost of a smile flickered across her face and caused the corners of her mouth to curl upwards before she could stop herself.

"Yes," she agreed lazily. "He was, wasn't he?"

"Would you…?"

He trailed off abruptly, and Alex couldn't help but be amused by the way his brow creased. She knew that look only too well. He had been on the cusp of asking her something that was bound to prove to be moderately unpleasant, at the very least.

"Would I what, Bobby?" she asked in a deceptively placid tone, and Bobby hesitated once more. He knew he had to be very careful with his wording here… although, it was entirely likely that it didn't matter what he said or how; he was still likely to land himself squarely in some very hot water.

"Would you go out with him? If he asked, I mean."

Alex frowned, then. She admitted she was very tired, but not so much that she missed what he was hinting at. It didn't take long for her to comprehend what he _wasn't_ saying, and she was not impressed.

"Is this is another Talbot ploy, Bobby? Because I might just dump this coffee over your head if it is."

"Sorry," Bobby said quickly, a red flush heating his cheeks. "I… I didn't mean it like that."

"Oh yes, you did," she retorted, quietly amused at the way he was trying to discreetly shift out of arm's length – something that was impossible when the sofa had them almost hip to hip as it was.

"Sorry," Bobby mumbled again. "Forget I said anything."

Silence reigned between them for a good ten minutes before Alex spoke suddenly.

"Yes."

Bobby eyed her with some degree of wariness. He suspected that he knew what she meant, but it would have been suicidal to jump to conclusions.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'd go out with him, if he asked," Alex confirmed, her attention seemingly fixed on whatever the movie that was on the television. "Mostly out of curiosity, but also…"

Bobby raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"What?" he pressed, not really expecting to get an answer. He was surprised when she did respond.

"Well, basically, he is pretty damned good-looking, Bobby. That, and I can't help wondering if he can back up that cocky swagger with the right moves, or if he's all talk like ninety-eight percent of the male population in this city."

Bobby allowed a wry smile to form on his lips at her choice of phrase.

"Ninety-eight percent? Should I be feeling insulted, Eames?"

"Since I've never dated you," she retorted, "I'm not going to answer that. Although just between us, the graffiti on the wall of the ladies' room on the twelfth floor suggests that you _do_ have the moves to back up the talk."

Just as she'd hoped, Bobby went flame red, and sank down into the sofa. He didn't say another word to her for the duration of the movie, his attention apparently fixed on the screen. Alex's attention, however, was as far removed from the movie as it was possible to get, her thoughts gradually encompassed with musings over what a night out with Captain Jack Harkness might be like.

* * *

Alex was so caught up in her musings that she never noticed the surreptitious glances Bobby occasionally sent her way, and she never noticed the slow smile that spread across his face as a multitude of ideas on how to unravel the mysterious Torchwood sped through his mind.

* * *

Ianto awoke to near total darkness. He lay still, comfortable and warm beneath the bed sheets and blankets of his hotel bed, trying to decide whether it was worth even contemplating what might have woken him up. All seemed to be quiet. He couldn't even hear street sounds from within the room. Kudos to the hotel concierge, he mused, for following his strict request for a suite of rooms in the quietest part of the hotel.

Just as he was about to decide it wasn't worth the time, effort or potential removal of himself from the cosy warmth of the bed, a new sound reached his ears; the sound of someone sobbing. The sound was muffled, and for a long moment Ianto thought it was coming from another room. Gwen's room was closest to his, he thought. Maybe she was having a nightmare…

_Nightmare_…

Ianto's heart skipped a beat, and he sat bolt upright. His head swung around, and he was confronted with the very sight that he had hoped they would have avoided. Jack lay face down on the mattress, completely uncovered, and his body rigid with fear and tension. The sobs were coming from him as he cried softly into his pillow.

Heart in his throat, Ianto reached out one hand tentatively, speaking as his fingertips brushed lightly against Jack's shoulder.

"Wake up, Jack."

If it were possible, Jack went even tenser, and a frightened cry escaped his lips. Ianto withdrew his hand, starting to feel sick. What, he wondered, had been done to Jack to reduce him to a state like this? A tiny part of his mind already suspected, but he couldn't bring himself to face that possibility. Hoping he wasn't making a foolish mistake, Ianto lay down carefully beside him and slipped an arm protectively around his shoulders.

Jack immediately went into near convulsions, his entire body screaming panic attack. Ianto refused to let go, though, tightening his hold on the captain, and slipping his other arm around so that he was holding Jack with both arms. Jack continued to struggle, but his struggles had a certain restraint to them. It was as if, in the midst of his nightmare, he was being physically restrained.

Ianto hugged him tighter, wondering with growing desperation what he could possibly do to wake Jack up without causing him more unnecessary trauma and distress. He was saved the worry, though, when Jack suddenly awoke with a strangled cry.

"_Wha_…?" Jack gasped, twisting wildly in Ianto's arms. Ianto, for his part, refused to release his hold on Jack.

"It was a nightmare," he murmured in as low and soothing a tone as he could manage. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe, Jack."

Jack went very still and for several seconds the two men just lay there, staring at each other. Then, as Ianto watched, Jack turned a ghastly shade of green, and twisted almost violently out of his embrace.

Sitting up again, Ianto watched as Jack virtually fell out of the bed and fled into the nearby ensuite. Moments later, the sound of retching reached Ianto's ears. Cautiously, Ianto left the warmth and comfort of the bed, and followed Jack through into the bathroom.

The sight that met him shook him badly. Jack was on his knees, slumped over the toilet bowl and trembling violently. Tears streaked his face, and he seemed to be struggling to contain fresh sobs.

Ianto collected a cloth from the basin and dampened it with cold water before crouching down beside Jack. He said nothing, and asked no questions. He simply reached around and gently wiped the damp cloth over Jack's face with one hand, whilst rubbing his back with the other.

Slowly, very slowly, Jack's trembling began to ease, and some clarity returned to his eyes.

"Think you're ready to get up?" Ianto asked, and Jack nodded.

"Yeah, think so," he mumbled.

Ianto got up and pulled Jack to his feet, and guided him out of the bathroom, and back to the warm sanctuary of the bed. Once he'd ensured that Jack was comfortably back under the blankets, he vanished back into the bathroom and returned a moment later with a glass of water.

"No coffee?" Jack queried. He sounded genuinely disappointed, Ianto mused.

"The last thing you need is coffee," he told him lightly. "Here, take a few mouthfuls of water."

Jack accepted the glass, and took a few conservative mouthfuls. Silence fell for a while, and when Jack spoke again, it was in a soft and bitter voice.

"I knew it wouldn't make any difference."

There was no admonishment in his voice, no hint of 'I told you so'; just a tired resignation. He'd resigned himself to having violent, terrifying nightmares, Ianto realised, and he obviously didn't believe that anything would stop them.

Ianto stared at Jack, taking in his pallid features and the ever darkening circles beneath his eyes. The man was exhausted, and his mental defences had just taken a severe battering. A part of him rebelled strongly against the idea of taking advantage of Jack when he was clearly in a vulnerable state of mind, but at the same time Ianto couldn't ignore the chance to encourage Jack to take the first step towards sharing the horrors he'd suffered.

"Talk to me, Jack," Ianto said, before he could change his mind. "Please, talk to me."

It was all that he said, but it seemed to be enough. Perhaps it was that his defences were down, or maybe he was finally ready to talk, but Jack began to speak softly in a conscious effort to keep his voice from breaking.

"The Master knew about me… knew that I can't die. He knew long before he captured us, before we found out who he really was. The freak, he called me. Guess he was right about that, at least."

"No," Ianto said tightly. "No, you're not a freak, Jack. If that's what he called you, then he was wrong."

Jack smiled sadly, and covered Ianto's hand briefly with his own, squeezing lightly. He paused, then, staring down at the bed covers as he tried to put his thoughts into some cohesive order.

"I could have escaped, you know," he admitted tremulously. "I could have gotten out of there with Martha, but I didn't. I stayed behind."

"Why did you do that?" Ianto asked, baffled. "Why did you stay, when you had to know what he was likely to do to you?"

But even as he asked the question, he thought he knew the answer, and the look on Jack's face only confirmed it for him. There was one very powerful reason why Jack had not fled the Valiant with Martha, and that reason was a certain Time Lord with whom Jack's life seemed to be inextricably interwoven.

Slowly, Ianto was beginning to form a clearer idea of what had happened in, as Jack himself had frequently referred to it, the year that wasn't. He and the rest of the Torchwood team knew the basics, according to what Jack had told them on his return. Harold Saxon had turned out to be a Time Lord, like the Doctor, but according to Jack he was evil and as insane as they came. He'd trapped the only other Time Lord still living, along with Jack, and enslaved the world for a year with the aid of a thing that Jack had called a paradox machine.

Tosh had asked him to explain that more, and Jack had steadfastly refused, saying that it was better if no one ever knew the details of it. He'd been so intense with his response that she'd not asked again.

When the Master had finally been defeated and the paradox machine had been destroyed, time had reversed itself and that year had literally been wiped out of existence. The only ones who remembered were those on board the Valiant at the time and that, Ianto had reflected more than once, had to be a terrible burden to bear if everything Jack had told them was to be believed.

"I couldn't abandon him," Jack whispered as fresh tears slowly forced their way out of his eyes. "Even though that's what he did to me, I couldn't do it to him. So I stayed."

"You stayed on board a ship," Ianto summarised. "A prisoner in the hands of a psychopath who knew you couldn't die. I suppose I can imagine how he treated you."

"It didn't take him long to start on me," Jack confessed in a bitter voice.

"Talk to me," Ianto encouraged him. "What did he do to you?"

"Tests, he called them," Jack said bitterly. "He said he needed to know how it worked… How my body healed itself… so that he could get the maximum benefits out of me."

"Bloody hell," Ianto whispered. He understood well enough the implications in that statement. Jack went on, talking as though the floodgates had finally been opened.

"Stabbed, shot, hanged, gutted, burned alive, suffocated, beaten to death, poisoned, left to bleed out, carved up by that bloody laser screwdriver…"

Jack paused, shuddering as he ran through the litany of torturous deaths that he'd been forced to endure. Ianto listened in numb silence, sickeningly aware that what Jack was telling him now was probably only the tip of a very big iceberg.

"He experimented on me… called it scientific curiosity. He injected me with something one day… never told me what it was. All I know is that it was some sort of virus. It made me so sick, but it didn't kill me. And every time my body fought back, the virus mutated and just made me even sicker. Three weeks, he left me like that. It was three whole weeks before he got bored and shot me in the head. And… that whole time… the entire twelve months, he left me chained in the bowels of that goddamned ship. I wasn't allowed to sit or lie down… I had to stand there the whole time, spread-eagled with my arms chained to opposite pillars. But… You know something, Ianto? All of that I could deal with. It was bad, but I could cope. What I couldn't cope with was when he ordered me to be isolated. No contact with anything or anyone at all…"

Jack swallowed hard, only to discover that his throat was utterly dry. He took a mouthful of water before continuing in a soft, hoarse voice.

"He brought the Doctor down one day. He forced him to sit there and watch while he tortured me. The Doctor… he tried so hard to help me. For a while he was able to shield my mind from the worst of the pain, but then the Master realised what he was doing, and forced him to stop. In the end, there just wasn't anything he could do. The Master tortured me almost to death."

"Almost?" Ianto wondered, and Jack nodded.

"Yeah. He stopped just short. See, one of the things he discovered was that as long as my injuries don't become life-threatening, my body will heal at a much slower rate. Not normal speed, but not super fast, either. So he stopped just short of actually killing me, and then the son of a bitch ordered me to be left completely isolated. No one was allowed to come anywhere near me until he said so. I wasn't allowed to see anyone or hear anyone at all. It didn't really affect me that much to begin with. I was in way too much pain to really take any notice. I don't know how long it was before I started begging for someone to talk to, but after a while, all I wanted was to hear another voice… _any_ voice… but the Master denied me even that."

He fell silent momentarily, and Ianto wondered if he had finally reached the limits of what he was prepared to talk about. He was surprised, therefore, when Jack continued to talk in a subdued, grief-stricken voice.

"Have you ever known what it's like to be so desperate for contact with someone… anyone… and to have it totally and completely denied? To be in so much pain that you _want_ to die? And the only thing that might help to make it even just a little more bearable would be having someone sit with you… talk to you… touch you… and it's the one fucking thing you can't have."

Ianto felt a minor shockwave ripple through him at the same time as the tears began to trickle down his own cheeks in a powerful emotional response to Jack's words. He'd rarely heard Jack swear, and the worst to pass his lips was an occasional 'bloody'. He couldn't even be certain that he'd ever heard the word 'shit' pass the man's lips. To hear him now use a word that was such a well-used part of Owen's vocabulary told Ianto more than anything how awful his captivity had truly been.

"No," Ianto whispered through a veil of tears, as he realised suddenly from the silence that Jack was actually waiting for a response, that his question hadn't been rhetorical. "No, I don't know what that's like. I'm so sorry, Jack."

"I always used to need to be around people," Jack said tiredly. "I craved company. You know that."

Ianto nodded in wordless agreement. Yes, he was very familiar with Jack's deep-seated need to have other people constantly around him. He could barely begin to imagine how hard it must have been for Jack to be cut off completely.

"How long?" he asked, though he was not entirely sure that he wanted to know the answer. The pain in Jack's eyes was almost enough of an answer for him, but he didn't try to stop Jack from replying.

"Over a month. I don't know for absolute certain how long it was… I wasn't exactly keeping track. All I know is that I damn near went mad."

"What stopped you?" Ianto asked softly. A soft wisp of a sigh escaped his lips, followed by a name that Ianto didn't recognise.

"Tish."

"Who?" Ianto wondered aloud.

"Tish Jones, Martha's younger sister."

This time, Ianto's lips parted in a wordless 'Oh'. He'd not yet met Martha Jones face to face, but he knew about her from Jack. He had spoken a number of times about her, citing her courage and strength with fervour. Jack spoke in a tone that was heavy with a mixture of grief and gratitude.

"He broke me, Ianto. That time… The Master broke me. I don't know at what point I stopped being aware of everything around me. I just did. I was so out of my mind with the pain and the loneliness that in the end I just retreated inside my own mind. I don't know how long I was like that for. I have a vague memory of the Master coming to me and trying to get a reaction from me… I think he even brought the Doctor down, thinking it'd snap me out of it. But, I guess I was too far gone."

Tentatively, Ianto reached across and intertwined his fingers with Jack's, quietly relieved when Jack responded in kind and squeezed his hand affectionately.

"How did she help you?" he asked, making a mental note to find this Tish when they got home and thank her profusely for bringing Jack back to them.

"Tish came to me," Jack said softly. "She did something no one else did. She hugged me."

Ianto was torn between surprise and wry amusement. A hug seemed almost too… innocent for the likes of Jack. Even after the incident with Abaddon, he hadn't come back to life until Gwen had kissed him.

"A hug?" he echoed with a half smile. "No kiss of life there, Jack?"

Jack didn't smile at the gentle teasing, and Ianto felt his stomach knot up a little as a fresh tear rolled down Jack's cheek.

"I went for over a month without any kind of contact. It nearly drove me mad. Then Tish came… and she _hugged_ me, Ianto. She just hugged me, and held me, and talked to me. She saved me, and I don't think I ever thanked her for that."

"When we get home," Ianto murmured as he settled back down beside Jack in the bed. "We'll go and see her, and thank her together."

"Together?"

"Of course. I want to be able to meet the young woman who was able to save Jack Harkness from going mad."

Jack was silent for a long minute, and then Ianto suddenly felt a violent shudder pass through him. A glance down told him that the shock of his memories was still threatening to send Jack over the edge.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered, feeling sick again as he realised just how much he'd just off-loaded to Ianto. The younger man shifted closer to Jack, encouraging him to rest against his shoulder.

"Don't apologise. You needed to talk about it, and I'm glad that you finally did."

Jack allowed his eyes to slide shut, lulled into a new calm by the sensation of Ianto's fingers stroking his temple.

"Thankyou," he mumbled, and a moment later Ianto felt Jack relax in his arms as sleep finally took him. Leaning down, Ianto brushed his lips over Jack's forehead in a tender kiss.

This was a big change – the last time they'd been together like this, in a comforting rather than a sexual way, their roles had been very definitely reversed, with Jack giving all the comfort. It was strangely reassuring to Ianto that Jack was able to receive comfort as well as give it. It told him that despite every fantastic thing that Jack was, beneath it all he was still essentially human.

Smiling sadly to himself, Ianto settled down properly next to Jack, and fell asleep with his captain wrapped firmly and protectively in his arms.

* * *

When Ianto awoke again, it was to an empty bed. He sat up slowly, looking around, but Jack was definitely gone. Not entirely surprised, but perhaps just a little disappointed, he climbed out of bed and headed into the ensuite to take a shower.

He emerged dressed and ready to go twenty minutes later to find Tosh and Gwen up already. Less surprisingly, there was no sign of Owen.

"Good morning," Gwen greeted him, at the same time handing him a cup of fresh, steaming coffee. When he stared at it blankly, she nudged him in mock annoyance. "Well, go on, try it. It's not poison."

Bemused, he took a sip and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't bad at all. He looked back at Gwen quizzically.

"You?" he asked, sounding more than a little incredulous. Gwen chuckled, tickled that he even bothered to ask.

"Go on, you know I can't make a decent cup of coffee. That's why you banned me from the kitchen. No, apparently Jack arranged this with Room Service."

"Ah," Ianto murmured. "Where is Jack, anyway?"

Tosh held up a piece of paper with just a line or two scribbled in Jack's handwriting.

"He left for One Police Plaza a few hours ago. Told us to give Owen until six to sleep. He wants us there by seven-thirty. Since it is..." She paused, glancing at her watch. "Since it's a quarter to six now, Sleeping Beauty has another fifteen minutes. I suggest we order some breakfast and be ready to get moving."

Ianto nodded, distracted by the realisation that he'd been so deeply asleep that he hadn't noticed Jack removing himself from his embrace. When he came out of his reverie, though, it was to find both Gwen and Tosh staring at him curiously.

"Is everything all right, Ianto?" Gwen asked, and Ianto answered with a quick nod. He saw no reason for divulging the fact that he and Jack had spent the night in the same bed, or about the nightmare Jack had suffered. He felt a momentary sensation of surprise as he realised that Jack had never actually told him what the nightmare had been about, and he couldn't help but wonder whether or not that had been deliberate on Jack's part.

"Everything's fine, Gwen," he answered placidly. "I think I'll go and wake Owen. It'll probably take him fifteen minutes to wake up anyway."

"Take a pillow," Gwen called after him as he started away down the hall. Ianto paused, and then looked back at her questioningly.

"Why would I need a pillow, then?"

"Trust me, you'll need it," she answered. "He doesn't like being woken up early, and he'll throw anything at you that he can lay his hands on."

Ianto snorted as he headed down the hallway.

"That would explain the three smashed mobile phones in the last month and a half, then."

* * *

_tbc..._


	7. Encounter

_One Police Plaza _

Bobby arrived at the Major Case squad room just before five o'clock that morning after yet another sleepless night. He knew Alex would throttle him if she knew what time he'd shown up at the office, so he was hoping furiously that no one else was there yet, and he would be able to hide himself away in one of the task rooms to study the case files and evidence... His thoughts virtually derailed as he walked into the bullpen, and his gaze went to the three main task rooms, currently off-limits to all but Torchwood.

Torchwood, he thought with a frown, and fancied that the mere thought of the secret group left a bad taste in his mouth. It was like the Squad had been overrun by the CIA. Slowly, he found himself drawn to the door of the first task room, the curiosity already starting to bubble within him. All of a sudden, he desperately wanted to know what was behind that door, and what sort of equipment that they were using.

His hand was on the doorknob and, before he could even begin to think what a bad idea it was, he'd opened the door and walked in.

At a glance, there didn't seem to be anything particularly out of the ordinary. There were five laptops set up around the table, each one in sleep mode. Not expecting to be able to access any of them, he wandered over and tapped a key on the nearest laptop. He was startled when the laptop flickered to life and he found himself confronted with a strange program that he didn't recognise or understand. Before he had a chance to get a closer look, a voice spoke almost directly behind him.

"See something that interests you?"

Bobby turned so fast that he caught his hip on the edge of the table and stumbled. He would have fallen, but for a strong pair of hands that closed around his shoulders and pulled him back upright. A moment later, Bobby found himself standing unnervingly close to the Torchwood captain, with the other man's hands gripping his shoulders and holding him close.

"Easy does it," Jack said with just the slightest hint of amusement.

"Thanks," Bobby muttered ruefully. Jack, however, didn't release his grip, and Bobby was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the other man's gaze sweeping him up and down in a blatant show of checking him out. And then, abruptly, Jack stepped backwards, away from him.

"There's nothing in here to interest you, Detective. If you've got questions, why don't we take it somewhere else, and you can ask me what you want directly."

For several long seconds, Bobby said nothing, torn between putting up a show of being abashed at being caught snooping, and abandoning that pretence in favour of wanting to know more about what Torchwood was doing. Eventually, he settled for the latter, and decided it was time to see what he could get out of Jack.

"Care for coffee, Captain?" he asked. "My shout."

Bobby could have sworn the smirk on Jack's lips widened just fractionally. Jack stepped back, and motioned to the door.

"After you, Detective."

Wondering just what he was letting himself in for, Bobby exited the room with Jack right behind him.

* * *

"Had you been there long?" Bobby asked as they ensconced themselves in a corner of a little café just a few minutes later with large mugs of steaming, fresh coffee. "In the squad room, I mean."

Jack paused in answering, taking a moment to sip at the coffee.

"Mm, this is good," he said approvingly. "Almost as good as Ianto's coffee. I'm telling you, Detective, you haven't tasted coffee until you've tried Ianto's coffee." He took another mouthful, his eyes closing briefly as he enjoyed the rich taste, before focusing on Bobby once more. "And yeah, I'd been there for a while. I saw you come in."

Bobby held Jack's gaze unapologetically.

"I won't apologise for looking."

"I wouldn't expect you to. What sort of detective would you be if you didn't snoop?" Jack smiled faintly, and shook his head. "Forget it. Just tell me honestly, did you even understand any of what you were looking at?"

Bobby hesitated, and then sighed and shook his head.

"No," he admitted. Jack nodded, satisfied.

"There you go, then. You got to snoop, I don't need to ret-con you, and we can all still be friends." He paused again, eyeing Bobby's sceptical expression, and chuckled. "Well, maybe not. Anyway, no harm done. Just don't try it again."

Bobby took a mouthful of coffee, relishing the burning sensation that the scalding liquid left in his mouth. He had questions that he desperately wanted to ask, but at the same time he sensed that to go ahead and ask would not necessarily be the wisest move. And so he turned his focus inwards, trying his best to stomp down on his curiosity.

Jack watched Bobby with open amusement. The big detective was trying so hard to quash his curiosity, but if the guy was anything like Gwen then his curiosity was a deeply set instinct, and impossible to ignore.

"You remind me of Gwen, when I first met her," Jack remarked, and Bobby looked up at him quizzically.

"Oh?"

"Mm. She had a driving need to know everything about us." He paused, contemplating that for a moment before going on. "I wonder sometimes whether she wishes she'd just left well enough alone."

Bobby eyed Jack critically, intrigued by the sudden wistfulness in his tone.

"Do you wish she had?" he asked, and an odd look flickered across Jack's face at the question.

"Sometimes I do," he admitted, surprising Bobby by actually responding. "Mostly, no. She brings something to the team that the rest of us can't supply. And… she keeps me human."

Bobby had little time to wonder exactly what Jack meant by that comment. Jack went on, a wry smile twisting his lips just slightly.

"Go ahead," the captain said, deciding to cut Bobby some slack. "Ask what you want to ask. I can't promise I'll answer, but go ahead and ask."

"Who are you?" Bobby asked, all but blurting it out. Jack grinned openly.

"You tried that one yesterday, Detective. I told you who I am."

A small smile crossed Bobby's lips, leaving Jack wondering just what was going through the other man's mind.

"And you didn't answer, not properly."

Jack leaned across the table towards Bobby, and flashed a brilliant grin at him.

"What makes you think I'll answer now?"

Despite himself, Bobby couldn't help smiling back. He really couldn't help it – there was something in the man's smile that was infectious.

"I had to try," Bobby said with a slight shrug.

"I know," Jack conceded. Bobby hesitated, peering thoughtfully at Jack over the top of his coffee.

"Tell me this then, if you can. How does an American man come to end up heading what is effectively a secret organisation in another country?"

Jack sorely wanted to laugh. Bobby's choice of wording seemed innocuous enough, but Jack had no problems catching the subtle attempt to lead him into giving up information about himself and Torchwood.

"What makes you think I'm American?" he asked as he took another mouthful of coffee. Bobby blinked, caught by surprise by the counter-question.

"Well, the accent is a bit of a give-away," he said finally. Jack laughed softly and shook his head.

"You people, and your quaint little categories."

Bobby's eyebrows went up at the odd comment, but he chose to ignore it, storing it away in his library-like mind for later reference.

"So… You're saying that you're not American?" he pressed, and Jack laughed out loud, amused by the big detective's perseverance.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that!"

Bobby was again unapologetic.

"What can I say? I'm the stubborn type."

An odd look flickered across Jack's face at that comment, and Bobby though he saw a momentary recognition in the other man's eyes. Although, what might have precipitated such a look, Bobby had no idea.

"Yeah," Jack murmured, suddenly sounding a little more sombre than before. "That makes two of us, Detective Goren."

"You haven't answered my question," Bobby pointed out, and Jack sighed in mock exasperation.

"All right," he gave in finally. "I'm a UK citizen. I have been for… a long time."

He had to catch himself there, much to his own surprise, after very nearly adding 'for the last eighty or so years'. That, he thought ruefully, would have been a little harder to brush off. Although, the look he was seeing on Bobby's face right then was setting off some serious alarms in his mind in any case. Time, he decided, to shift the focus of the conversation away from himself.

"How long have you been with the NYPD, Detective Goren?"

Bobby didn't have to pause at all before answering that question.

"Nineteen years. I've been a detective for twelve of those years."

"You must enjoy the job," Jack remarked casually, all the while watching Bobby with a piercing stare.

At that, and much to Jack's curiosity, Bobby hesitated in answering.

"I like the job," he said finally, choosing his words with great care, as though he was terrified that it might get back to the wrong person. "And, I have a great partner."

Jack sat back a little, intrigued enough to press for greater detail.

"I'm sensing a little dissatisfaction here."

Bobby didn't look up, although whether that was because he couldn't meet Jack's gaze, or whether he was simply lost in thought, Jack didn't know and wasn't going to speculate.

"It… It hasn't been an easy couple of years," he admitted softly. "We had a change of command last year, after our former captain was forced to retire under a cloud over something he didn't even do… The new guy…"

"Ross?"

"Yes. He's been difficult to adjust to. I mean, he's a good cop, but it just… It's not the same. Deakins understood me… It seems like Ross doesn't even want to try."

Jack felt a twinge of sympathy, recalling more than one time in his life when he'd had a good relationship under a particular senior officer, only to then have to adjust to someone entirely new. It was never easy, and by the looks of it this detective had found it especially hard. Bobby went on, oblivious to the silent sympathy he was getting from Jack.

"Some of the cases we've had were hard to deal with… And then my mom was sick…"

"Was?" Jack queried quietly.

Bobby's gaze flickered upwards just briefly.

"She… She died… a few months ago," Bobby admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry," Jack murmured sincerely, and Bobby nodded in wordless acknowledgement.

"I just…" he went on in an even softer voice that Jack found himself struggling a little to hear. "I just can't help thinking sometimes… that maybe…"

"It might be time for a change?" Jack put in when Bobby trailed off. The detective looked up at Jack slowly, with a mixture of confusion and startled realisation on his face. He didn't say a word, but his expression told Jack that he was on the money with his assessment.

Inexplicably, Jack found himself wondering just how this seasoned cop would cope with the daily goings on in Torchwood. Sure, he was a little out of shape, but that could be fixed easily enough with some intensive training…

He shook the thought from his mind, annoyed with himself for even contemplating such a thing. Regardless of whether he thought Bobby might make a good recruit to Torchwood, now was not the time or the place for thinking about it. He was not in New York to look at expanding his team.

All else aside, he thought ruefully, the Doctor himself had made it very clear how he felt about the current Torchwood team getting any bigger than it already was. He recalled very distinctly the Doctor's warning words to him about it while they were still on the Tardis.

* * *

_"Now, Jack, about this Torchwood that you say you've rebuilt in my honour_…_" _

_Jack immediately went defensive, expecting a rebuke… or worse still, a direct order to disband the team. _

_"I told you before, Doctor. There's only a half dozen of us now_…_" _

_"Oh, relax. I'm not going to tell you to end it. You probably wouldn't even if I did, stubborn git that you are…" _

_Jack stared at him in surprise. _

_"You're not? I don't?" _

_"No," the Doctor assured him calmly. "You don't, Jack. So just calm down." _

_Jack let his breath out in a fierce rush, his relief painfully obvious. _

_"That's great, Doctor. But… why? You're not planning to hold us to ransom down the track, are you?" _

_"Don't be ridiculous," the Doctor retorted, quietly amusement by Jack's ill-concealed astonishment and confusion. "And close your mouth, Jack. The nanogenes are going to escape." _

_Jack's mouth snapped shut, and the Doctor went on cheerfully. _

_"I've got no intention of holding you to ransom. And, I've got no problem with your Torchwood continuing on. By all accounts you seem to be trying to do the right thing, which is something, I suppose. Oh, you've made some mistakes… a few whoppers, actually, but you've at least tried to fix them, unlike those idiots at Torchwood One, who went merrily along until they nearly destroyed the whole planet. So, I don't mind your little group continuing on, as long as it stays just as it is. Don't go trying to make it any bigger than it is now, Jack. Do you understand me?" _

_"Yes," Jack answered, sounding just a little hoarse. "I got it, Doctor. But_… _Why? Really, I mean why? You hate Torchwood, and everything it's ever stood for." _

_The Doctor leaned forward, until his face was barely inches from Jack's. _

_"So why did you join it, then?" _

_Jack blanched. _

_"I… I wanted to change it," he stammered. The Doctor nodded. _

_"And you have, quite superbly, too. Although, you are still a little trigger-happy, but you have plenty of time to work on that. What it comes down to in the end, though, is that I trust you, Jack. I should have thought that was obvious."_

_

* * *

_

That had floored Jack, and he had still been flustered by the frank admission hours afterwards. Then, when the shock had finally faded, warmth unlike anything he'd experienced for a long while had surged through him. Between that and the Doctor's warm and sincere offer to rejoin him on the Tardis, all of the negative and draining feelings of the abandonment and betrayal that Jack had lived with for so long effectively evaporated, finally leaving him free to go on with his life – however long that might be.

He was free from that now… but he had quickly discovered that he was not free from the trauma of his suffering under the Master. That, he had soon begun to suspect, was something he would never be free from.

He had asked the Doctor about it a couple of days after the Doctor had talked to him about Torchwood, not really expecting a positive response but still hoping regardless that perhaps there was some glimmer of hope in the middle of the darkness. When he'd asked, though, all he had gotten in response was a sad, almost heartbroken gaze, and a heartfelt, softly spoken 'I'm so sorry, Jack'.

The finality in the Doctor's words and tone, and the deep sympathy and sadness in his eyes had just about broken Jack's own heart, and he'd retreated back to his room on the Tardis, not to surface again for a long time. No one had been able to draw him out, then – not even Tish, who had been so close to him while they were still prisoners on the Valiant.

When he'd finally emerged, just before the Tardis finally landed in Cardiff to drop him off, he'd behaved as though nothing was wrong, or had ever been wrong. He'd flirted ferociously with both Martha and Tish, and even with Francine to a degree, in what he later knew the others had seen as a desperate display to hide his great emotional pain. He'd never let on again how much he was still suffering, and indeed, Ianto was the first to have finally broken through the wall he'd built up around himself since his return to Earth.

A voice spoke, breaking steadily through into his reverie, and he looked up to find Bobby was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Sorry," Jack apologised, flashing the detective a wide grin in an effort to hide his discomfort at being caught out wallowing in his memories like that. "I zoned out a little just then. What did you say?"

"I said, are you okay, Captain Harkness?" Bobby asked. Jack sat up straight, and even as Bobby looked on, Jack's face once more became a mask of false congeniality, impossible to see beyond the façade it presented.

"I'm fine." He glanced down at his watch purely for show, but was genuinely startled to discover it was after seven. What had felt like just a short time had actually morphed into nearly two hours. It was time, he decided, to put an end to this little chat. "Time to be getting back. My team should be arriving soon." He paused, looking curiously at Bobby as they stood up together. "You were there pretty early, come to think of it. Do you show up there at ridiculously early hours regularly? Or was it just that you thought you'd beat us in and get a closer look at our gear?"

"No," Bobby answered, reddening slightly. "I… I just don't really sleep well. I never have. I'd rather be in at the bullpen, getting things done, rather than sitting around doing nothing."

Jack nodded in whole-hearted agreement.

"Detective Goren, that is a sentiment that I totally agree with."

Bobby hesitated, wondering if he wasn't making a mistake with what he was about to offer. It only took him a minute to decide he really didn't care one way or the other.

"Please," he murmured, "just call me Bobby."

Jack nodded acceptingly.

"Okay, then, Bobby. And you can quit calling me Captain Harkness. It's just Jack. And _nobody_ calls me 'sir'… Well, except for Ianto, and I'm working on that."

"If you don't mind me saying," Bobby remarked, "you're not like any captain I've ever seen before."

Jack grinned at that.

"I hope you mean that in a good way, Bobby."

Unable to resist the other man's incorrigible charm, Bobby smiled back.

"And if I didn't?"

Jack uttered a short laugh.

"You probably do not want to know."

* * *

They were on the sidewalk, heading back to One Police Plaza, when a sharp beep emitted from Jack's wrist control device. Frowning, he slowed to a halt and flipped the top open and began to manipulate tiny buttons and dials that looked unlike anything Bobby had ever seen before.

"What is that?" Bobby asked. His curiosity got the better of him finally, and he leaned in towards Jack to get a closer look.

"Ah… I _could_ tell you…"

Bobby regarded him sceptically.

"But then you'd have to kill me?"

Jack snorted.

"First Gwen, and now you. What is it with you cops that you all think I'm homicidal? I _was_ going to say that then I'd have to ret-con you, and I don't really want to have to do that. So don't ask, I won't tell, and we're all happy. Well, more or less…"

He trailed off as a final reading came through on the device and, as Bobby watched, Jack's grin melted away, to be replaced by an expression full of incredulity and disbelief.

"That's not possible," he muttered. "It can't be right…"

"Jack?" Bobby asked cautiously, hoping to get some clue as to what suddenly had the captain so much on edge. When Jack looked back at him, though, there was a dismissive look on his face mixed with a deadly serious intent.

"Sorry, Bobby. I enjoyed talking to you, but I have work to do now. Go on back to your squad room. Maybe we'll have another chance to talk again."

And with that dismissal, Jack walked quickly away from him, his long greatcoat billowing out dramatically in the wind. As he went, one hand came up to switch on his earpiece, suggesting to Bobby that he was about to contact one or all of his team. After just a brief moment of indecision, Bobby pulled out his cell phone and followed him.

* * *

The Torchwood team was well on its way in, and just a few city blocks away from One Police Plaza when their earpieces began to flash blue to signal an incoming call or message.

Ianto was driving, having claimed the privilege after Jack's promise from the previous day. None of the others had argued with him, though. The women were content to let him navigate the unfamiliar streets while they fiddled with their in-vehicle computers, and Owen was too busy focusing on the coffee that Ianto had thrust into his hands the moment he'd emerged, dressed, from his room.

All in all, Ianto reflected as he reached up easily to switch on the audio receiver part of his earpiece, it had been a blessedly quiet trip from the hotel. That in itself was a surprise, considering the profanities that had been spewing from Owen's lips from the moment Ianto had woken him up. He'd not commented on it, though, not daring to say anything that might have resulted in a further outburst, and just enjoying the peace, for as long as it could possibly last.

Not for very long at all, apparently, he thought ruefully. A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed when Jack's voice, laced with tension, spoke loudly in his ear.

_"Ianto, where are you?" _

Ianto's eyebrows went up slightly at the other man's sharp tone.

"We're on our way in, Jack. We're just a few minutes away, now. Why, what's wrong?"

_"We've got a weevil alert." _

Ianto barely had time to feel surprise himself as, behind him, both Toshiko and Gwen uttered squawks of surprise at the news and, in the passenger seat beside him, Owen started up, suddenly fully alert.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Owen cut in incredulously. "I could have sworn you just said there's a weevil alert."

_"I did," _Jack's voice shot back.

"This isn't Cardiff, mate," Owen protested. "This is New bloody York!"

_"I know where we are, Owen,"_ Jack snapped. _"According to the readings, we've got one right smack in the middle of Central Park. All the gear we need for hunting weevils is in the back of the SUV. Pick me up out front of One Police Plaza." _

Ianto grimaced.

"We'll be there in three minutes."

* * *

Alex was perhaps one block away from One Police Plaza when her cell phone rang. Frowning, she answered it without bothering to check caller ID first. She knew instinctively who it was, and didn't need caller ID to confirm it for her.

"Eames."

_"It's me,"_ Bobby's voice came through clearly, and she immediately felt herself stiffen in reaction to the audible tension in his voice. _"Where are you?" _

"About a black away from the garage," she answered. "I thought I'd try beating you in for once, but you're already there, aren't you?"

_"Yes, but never mind that. Don't go to the garage. Meet me out the front." _

Alex blinked, caught by surprise. A moment later, she felt a familiar mix of annoyance and elation.

"We've got a case?"

_"No,"_ Bobby answered, and Alex felt her heart sink a little.

A new case would have given both her and Bobby something else to focus on other than what was currently going on within One Police Plaza right then. His next words, though, made her want to head straight for the garage and tell him to meet her up in bullpen, where she might be able to slap some sense into him.

_"That lot from Torchwood have got something, though. Hurry, Eames." _

Alex sighed bitterly as the line cut out before she could get another word in. Deciding she might as well go along with it, she stomped her foot down on the gas to get to her partner before he got impatient and did something stupid.

* * *

Barely a minute later, she was pulling up outside One Police Plaza, and Bobby was climbing in.

"Well?" she asked, and he motioned further along. Alex looked in the direction he was indicating and, sure enough, there was Captain Jack Harkness, waiting with growing impatience.

"What's he waiting for?" she wondered with a frown.

"His team, I think," Bobby murmured. "We were coming back to One Police Plaza, and he got some sort of alert on that leather strap he wears on his wrist…"

"Whoa," Alex cut in, staring at him with a frown. "What do you mean, you were coming back? Coming back from where?"

Bobby hesitated, wondering just how much he ought to tell her. One look at her face, though, and he knew that to not tell her would be even worse.

"Okay, so when I got in this morning, there didn't seem to be anyone around…"

"And you got curious," Alex sighed. Bobby looked at her with a familiar sheepish expression, and she couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course you did. Go on, then. What happened?"

"I wasn't alone," Bobby admitted. "Jack was there. I went into the task room to see what equipment they had, and he followed me in. Damn near gave me a heart attack, too, I might add."

"What did he threaten to do to you?" Alex wondered, suddenly curious as to what creative threats the mysterious Captain Jack had up his sleeves. Bobby seemed to sense her curiosity, and looked almost embarrassed as he spoke.

"He didn't. He said that if I wanted to ask questions, then to ask him directly."

"And?" Alex pressed. Bobby gave a lopsided shrug.

"I offered to buy him a coffee, and we went to Delia's. Uh…"

Alex eyed him questioningly.

"What is it?"

"Remember what we talked about yesterday? How you said you'd go out with him if he asked you?"

Alex lifted a single eyebrow with a look on her face that told Bobby expressly to tread very carefully.

"Yes, I recall. Why?"

"It… It's just… I, uh…"

A frustrated noise escaped Alex's lips.

"Just spit it out, Bobby!"

Bobby was looking thoroughly embarrassed by then, but he forced himself to speak.

"I'm not so sure that he, uh… bats for the same team as me and Logan."

Both of Alex's eyebrows shot up at those unexpected words.

"Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me that you think he's _gay_?"

Grimacing, Bobby attempted to explain himself more clearly.

"When he walked in on me… When I was looking at their equipment… He startled me a little, and I nearly fell over."

"You? Startled? Inconceivable," Alex snorted. Bobby shot her a withering look, but went on.

"He grabbed me, and stopped me from falling…"

"And you deduced he was gay from what? The way he caught you?"

"No… The way he held me against him after catching me was kind of a giveaway."

Alex stared long and hard at Bobby with a deep frown before finally conceding that he was being honest. She knew he wouldn't screw her around when it came to men and, all else aside, he was far too embarrassed to be lying or delusional.

"Go figure," she retorted wryly. "Carolyn was right. All the good ones _are _gay or married."

Bobby did a double-take.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Girl talk, Bobby. Forget it. Look, here comes the SUV."

Bobby looked around to see the Torchwood SUV coming from the opposite direction. To the astonishment of both of them, Jack didn't wait for them to pull around, but rather ran straight across the road to the vehicle, narrowly avoiding being struck by no less than four cars and a bus; apparently oblivious to the angry sound of several car horns that honked loudly.

"Shit!" Alex swore. "Does the guy have a death wish?"

Bobby could only shake his head, equally incredulous as they watched Jack run around the momentarily stationary vehicle, and climb in through the rear door. Then, the car accelerated away.

"Eames…" Bobby said tensely.

"Hang on," Alex warned him, and took advantage of the brief break in traffic that followed Jack's suicidal dash across the road to swing her car around and go after the Torchwood car. "No one out-drives me. Especially not…"

"Don't say it," Bobby threatened her.

"You don't know what I was going to say," she retorted, barely holding back a smirk. Bobby scowled.

"No, but I can guess. Just don't, okay? It'll be hard enough to live down if it ever gets back to Mike."

"I don't know," Alex snorted in amusement. "Between you and Mike, _Jack_ might be spoiled for choice. And since when did he become _Jack_ to you, anyway?"

Bobby's flush deepened, and Alex found she could no longer contain her smirk.

"Just shut up and drive, Eames."

Alex grinned, but otherwise conceded and planted her foot on the gas.

* * *

"We're being followed," Tosh announced placidly as she examined the monitor in front of her. Jack nodded, not appearing the least bit surprised by the news.

"I know. It's Bobby, and probably his partner as well. He was with me when the weevil alert came through."

"And you just let him go?" Owen growled. "Just great. That's all we need, a couple of local yokels tailing us, thinking they'll get in on the action."

"What are we going to do?" Gwen wondered. "If they get in the way, they could get themselves killed."

"Simple," Jack told her calmly, as though it were the most logical thing in the world. "We get to the weevil before they catch up to us."

"Oh, of course," Owen snorted. "How stupid of us not to think of that first. Seriously, Jack, the detectives aside, have you even thought about what we're going to do with this weevil when we catch it? I don't think we'd get away with taking it into One Police Plaza, you know."

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces?" Tosh asked, uttering a half-stifled giggle at the thought of the looks on the faces of the New York police if they were to be confronted with a weevil.

Jack, however, was not smiling, and his sombre expression quickly erased the amusement of the others.

"I don't know what we'll do with it," he admitted. "I don't want to have to kill it… But we might not have a choice. We can't exactly lock it up somewhere until we go home, and we have no way of taking it with us when we do." He paused, and then shuddered and shook his head. "Trying to disguise a weevil for a twenty hour flight home to Cardiff is not exactly a matter of just covering the face. I don't think anyone could get drunk enough to ignore _that_, or that we could safely sedate it for long enough."

"So you're seriously suggesting we just put a bullet in its head?" Gwen demanded. Jack shot her a dark glare.

"I told you, I don't want to have to do that, but there might not be any other option. We have no idea where this weevil's come from…"

"Most likely from the sewers," Ianto interjected. "That's where the ones in Cardiff reside. It's entirely possible that there's an entire nest of them down there somewhere."

"Thankyou, Ianto, I'm aware of that possibility," Jack said tersely. "The bottom line is that, like Owen pointed out, we have nowhere to hold it, but we can't just let it go, either. It'll end up killing someone, if it hasn't already. We have to deal with this, and we have to do it quickly. If it means killing it, then so be it. We have a bigger issue to deal with than weevils."

"And what about our friends tailing us?" Owen wondered. Jack shifted around to look at the young Welshman currently driving.

"Ianto?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you want to pull over and let me drive?"

"I wouldn't advise that, sir."

"Then move it! Lose them, _now_!"

Ianto smiled tightly.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Holy shit," Alex swore as the Torchwood SUV suddenly pulled away from them and, at the next intersection, pulled a hard left from the far right lane, cutting off several cars and nearly causing a multiple car pile-up.

"Slick," Bobby muttered with grudging respect. Alex glared at him.

"Slick my ass, Goren. They could have killed someone! I swear I am going to kick that guy's ass when we catch up to them!"

"_If_ we catch up to them," Bobby pointed out bleakly. Alex looked again, and realised just how right Bobby was. The SUV's hazardous manoeuvre through the intersection had left it very thoroughly blocked. There was no getting through, and Bobby and Alex could only watch helplessly as the vehicle vanished around the next intersection.

"No," Alex growled, reaching for the radio. "No way. They are not getting away, not after _that_ stunt."

"What are you doing?" Bobby wondered, although he thought he could guess.

"Calling for back-up," Alex told him. "I want to know where they're going, and what's so damned important that they had to pull an idiotic stunt like that. Hang on…"

Bobby sat back, looking around impatiently as Alex placed a call over the radio for other units to keep an eye out for the Torchwood SUV. She laid down careful instructions that they were not to be stopped – just watched to see where they ended up.

Within a minute, they had their first answer. A uniform on foot radioed to inform them that he'd sighted the black SUV headed towards Central Park East. A second patrol unit reported the same, and a third told them that the SUV had actually mounted the pavement and driven into Central Park itself, stopping a short way in much to the astonishment of the people who had been standing around at the time. There, apparently the team had piled out of the car, loaded up with equipment that the uniform couldn't begin to describe, and headed off into the park.

"Okay, stay where you are," Alex told him. "Detective Goren and I will be there in two minutes. Don't let anyone near that car."

_"Understood, Detective Eames,"_ the officer responded. Alex promptly put her car into reverse, and took off on an alternate route to the Park.

"Bobby, do you think you'd better…"

She trailed off, not entirely sure whether he'd appreciate a suggestion to call their captain. Bobby, however, seemed to have already come to that conclusion, and was pulling his cell phone out of his jacket.

"I'll call Ross, and tell him what we're doing. Better keep him updated… you know, just in case this comes back to bite us on the ass."

Alex smiled wryly, but said nothing, concentrating instead on her driving.

* * *

In his office, on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza, Captain Danny Ross sat back slowly, torn between staying in his office and waiting on news, or grabbing his jacket and gun, and going after his detectives.

Bobby Goren had just called to tell him that the Torchwood crew had taken off for Central Park in a hell of a hurry, and that he and Alex were following them in the hope of finding something… _anything_ out. Finally, with a great deal of reluctance, Ross decided against going after them. All he could hope was that nothing went wrong, because he was beginning more and more to believe what the Chief of Detectives had told them just the day before – that Captain Jack Harkness was a dangerous man, and not someone to be crossed.

He had had a lengthy phone conversation the previous night after getting home. He'd spent a good couple of hours talking to an old friend who was high up in a British branch of the UNIT hierarchy, and that friend had had some very conflicting pieces of information to give about the mysterious and enigmatic Captain Harkness.

Firstly, Ross had asked about Torchwood, only to be told very succinctly '_don't ask_'. Torchwood was its own entity, Ross's friend had told him. They answered to no one except the Queen, and even she didn't seem to have control over the organisation anymore. Ross had queried whether the group was an illegal rogue group, but his friend had just laughed.

_"Nothing illegal about them, Danny,"_ had been the reply. _"They're as legit as the NYPD. Look, all I can tell you about Torchwood is that it was supposedly set up by Queen Victoria herself. I can't tell you what they investigate. No one seems to know for sure, and they definitely don't play well with others, you know? But they are definitely legitimate. They have all their own protocols and rules, and we're not allowed to interfere in anything they do. They get priority, Danny, in **everything**. If they want a case, they take it. No one questions them. I don't think anyone dares. And the last police officer who got his back up and tried arresting one of 'em for something? Well, he ended up losing his rank. It's kind of like they've got diplomatic immunity in their own country, you know? As for that Harkness bloke… I'm telling you now, Danny, don't get on the wrong side of him. He's dangerous." _

_"What can you tell me about him?"_ Ross had asked with a frown, wondering with a sinking feeling what he and his detectives had managed to get stuck in the middle of.

_"Nothing solid, mate. Just rumours, really, but they'd be enough to stand your hair on end." _

_"So tell me," _Ross had pressed. _"I'd like to know just what we're dealing with here." _

_"Hmm, **what** is just about right, there. Okay, you want to hear it? I'll tell you. For starters, there was that nasty business a few months back, on the Valiant. He was there, right in the middle of it, and just before all that happened there was a terrorist alert put out about him and two others." _

Ross struggled not to laugh.

_"If he was a wanted terrorist, he would hardly be running around in public now, with the sort of freedom that you just described." _

_"Mm, maybe. Anyway, that's not all. Another rumour is that the guy is old, and I don't mean like fifty or so. Someone in my team did a bit of extracurricular research, and found some evidence, a couple of pictures of him on the internet." _

_"Pictures?" _Ross had echoed, unable to keep from sounding disappointed. _"That's not exactly…" _

_"From 1941, Danny. These pictures were taken in a dance hall in Cardiff, in 1941, right in the middle of World War II. And I'm telling you, he doesn't look a day older now than he did back when those pictures were taken. Hang on, mate, I'll email them to you_. _They've been deleted now… probably by Torchwood… but we managed to make copies before they were taken down. Here…" _

Minutes later, Ross had found himself staring at two pictures, surprisingly clear in their quality. Both were of a slightly bewildered-looking Captain Jack Harkness, another man that Ross didn't recognise and a woman that he did. It was the same woman, Toshiko Sato, who had arrived with the Torchwood group yesterday. His attention, though, had been drawn to the image of Jack.

_"It can't be the same man," _he'd insisted. _"His father, maybe…?" _

_"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. The other thing about him… There are other rumours, and this might sound like the ramblings of a lunatic, but there are rumours that the man can't die." _

At that, Ross had to choke back laughter.

_"You're right. That is insane." _

_"Yeah, I know, but there is just something about him… Ah, I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? Anyway, I've got to go, Danny. I need a few hours sleep before going on duty again. Just remember what I said. The guy could be dangerous. Whatever Torchwood is doing over there, my advice is to let them do it. Don't interfere, and hopefully none of your people will end up in hospital… or worse, in a box." _

Ross had hung up feeling even worse than before talking to his friend, if that was even possible. And now, Bobby Goren and Alex Eames were doing exactly what his friend had advised them against. They had gone chasing after Jack Harkness and Torchwood, rushing headlong into God only knew what. And yet, despite instincts and warnings, Ross opted against calling them off. It wasn't that he didn't think they would listen. He knew that if he insisted hard enough, Alex would concede and back off, and Bobby would do so as well in deference to his partner.

The truth, though, was that Ross was as anxious to know what Torchwood was up to as much as his detectives. And so, he let his curiosity rule over common sense, and sat back and waited to hear from Bobby and Alex. And as he sat and waited, he hoped fervently that he wasn't making a terrible, terrible mistake.

* * *

"Well, we lost them," Gwen remarked as they headed into Central Park. Jack didn't look particularly impressed.

"Not for long. Did you see the beat cop watching us when we pulled up? I'll bet twenty quid that he's already radioed to tell them where we are. They'll be here soon, I guarantee it. We'd better do this as fast as we can. Tosh? Have you got a fix on it yet?"

Tosh paused, peering intently at the device in front of her before pointing away from the SUV, towards what appeared to be a heavily wooded area.

"That way. The signal is strongest in that direction."

"Okay," Jack muttered, resting one hand lightly on his Webley for reassurance. "Let's go catch ourselves a weevil, people."

* * *

Bobby and Alex arrived at the scene within a couple of minutes of Jack and his team disappearing through the trees. Even as they climbed out of Alex's car, a young uniformed officer approached them at a jog.

"Detective Eames?" he asked, his attention going straight to Alex. She nodded.

"Officer Dalton, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ma'am. They went that way, into the trees."

Bobby and Alex wasted no time, heading off immediately in the direction that he'd indicated.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Dalton called after them.

"No, stay there," Bobby called back to him. "Keep an eye on that SUV, don't let anyone go near it. We'll call for back-up, if we need it."

And then they, too, were gone. Dalton stood there, a frown on his young face as he watched them go. Then, finally, with a last look at the black SUV, he drew his gun and took off after the two detectives.

* * *

Bobby and Alex ran in silence, with Alex leading the way. For a while, they ran blind, not knowing for absolute certain whether they were going in the right direction. Before long, though, new sounds reached their ears. Something that sounded like a bizarre cross between growling and whining met them, and Alex looked back at Bobby incredulously as they slowed to a cautious walk.

"A dog?"

Bobby shrugged.

"Doesn't sound like a dog."

"A rabid dog, then. They came racing out here just to deal with a rabid dog?"

Bobby signalled her to be quiet, and pointed ahead of them to the top of a short embankment. She nodded and they approached together in silence, taking cover behind the trees before daring to look out. What they saw left both of them stunned and speechless.

Just over the rise of the embankment, the Torchwood team was spread out in a wide circle, and very slowly closing in on a creature, the likes of which neither Bobby nor Alex had ever seen before in their lives.

It was tall, human-shaped, and possibly the ugliest thing either of them had ever laid eyes on.

"What the hell is that thing?" Alex whispered, but for once Bobby had no answer to give her. Instead, he continued to watch in breathless astonishment as the five members of Torchwood slowly closed the gaps around the creature.

* * *

"Now what, O Great Leader, who forgot to take the weevil spray out of the SUV?" Owen hissed as they moved ever closer to their increasingly agitated target.

Jack clenched his jaw, his hand brushing oh so lightly over the holster that held his Webley. He really didn't want to have to kill it, but it was starting to appear that he was not going to have any choice in the matter.

"I don't suppose you know weevil-speak for 'please surrender', do you, Owen?" Ianto asked in a low voice, winning himself a scowl from the medic.

"Very funny, Teaboy. Why don't you have a go? I'm sure if you ask it nicely, it'll be happy to cooperate."

"Shut up, both of you," Tosh hissed. "You're not helping!"

Jack was just tossing up in his mind whether to just go ahead and shoot the poor, miserable creature or offer himself up as bait, when a new noise drew the attention not only of the team but also that of the weevil. They looked around just as the young beat cop who had witnessed their arrival came running over the rise and down into the enclosed area. He stumbled as he came down the small slope, and though he didn't fall, the momentum of his stumble carried him forward, straight into the path of the weevil.

The weevil gave an angry roar, and before any of the Torchwood team could do anything to stop it, the monster grabbed the young man and sank its razor teeth into his throat. Blood spurted into the air, and the young cop was dead before he even knew what was happening. The team surged forward, driven by a combination of panic and adrenalin, only to be brought up short when Jack yelled for them to stop. They fell back obediently, and he was about to draw his Webley and end it, when two more figures appeared, drawn into the situation by the need of a brother officer.

Jack watched, horrified, as Bobby and Alex slid down the slope, weapons drawn, neither one giving a thought to their own safety. They both thought they were armed and well able to protect themselves. They couldn't have been more wrong.

The weevil, mad with blood-lust, let its victim go and turned its focus on the nearest living thing – Detective Alex Eames. It charged her with a roar, clawed hands outstretched and mouth wide open to sink its teeth into her. She fired her weapon once, twice, but it wasn't enough to stop the crazed creature.

At the last second, something hit her from the side, and she was propelled out of the way of the oncoming monster. She hit the ground hard, and a moment later a strong pair of hands grabbed her by the arms and hauled her up and out of the way.

She didn't have time to acknowledge whoever had come to her aid, though. Her attention was fixed on her partner, who had been the one to shove her out of the way. Bobby was now the focus of the weevil, much to her horror.

He lifted his gun, but the weevil swiped furiously, its clawed fingers raking across the flesh of Bobby's hands and forcing him to drop his weapon. His foot caught on an out-jutting tree root, and he went over backwards, landing hard and winding himself. The weevil roared and started towards him, its intent all too clear.

Then, suddenly, someone else was there, someone putting himself between Bobby and the weevil, someone tall and in an immaculate suit that was almost painfully at odds with his immediate surroundings…

"Ianto, no, get out of the way!" Jack yelled, but it was too late. The focus of the weevil shifted in the blink of an eye, and it grabbed hold of its new prey, rows of razor teeth clamping down on the young man's left shoulder while the claws tore at his right side.

Ianto screamed in pain, struggling futilely to escape the powerful hold even as he felt his ribs cracking under the pressure of the monster's grip. The teeth left his shoulder and aimed for his throat, and Ianto had a fleeting, sorrowful thought that he would not be able to hold Jack just one last time before death took him…

And suddenly, inexplicably, the weevil was letting him go.

The vice-like grip on his body relaxed, and he dropped to the ground, dazed and in more pain than he remembered being in for a long time. Shuddering, he tried to look around, and was stunned to see Owen there, between him and the weevil… and were those hissing sounds coming from the medic?

Insanely, Ianto thought that Owen could have given Daniel Radcliffe a run for his money as a Parselmouth in _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_, but then a single gun shot resonated through the area, and the weevil was falling to the ground, dead.

Hands on his wounds, attempting to stymie the flow of blood… Ianto looked around in a daze to find the big detective had pulled himself together and was now trying to help him, for whatever good it was doing. But then, abruptly, the detective was shoved roughly out of the way, and there was Jack, reaching for him… Holding him…

* * *

"Keep your hands off him," Jack snarled at Bobby, barely in control of his rage as he cradled his injured colleague and lover.

"He needs an ambulance," Bobby said hoarsely, though he didn't try to reach for Ianto again.

"What he needed," Jack thundered, "what we _all_ needed was for you to _not interfere_! You could have gotten him killed, you stupid, arrogant son of a bitch!" He looked around to where Alex was standing, staring at the weevil in shaken silence. "Both of you! I told you to keep out of it! What part of that didn't you get?"

Gwen stepped across, laying a hand on Alex's shoulder.

"You'd better go,_ now_. Take your partner, and get him to a hospital. Get his hands seen to."

"What about…?" Alex started to say, but suddenly Owen was there, a hard and unforgiving gleam in his eyes.

"Don't stop to ask stupid questions, sweetheart. Just take your partner, and get out of here before Jack decides to just shoot you both. And don't think he won't. You two idiots nearly got Ianto shredded by the weevil. Jack's killed others for a lot less than that."

Numbly, Alex stumbled around and grabbed Bobby's arm.

"C'mon. Let's go."

Bobby resisted, his gaze fixed on Ianto's battered and bloodied form. Jack looked back up at him slowly, and Bobby recoiled from the sheer rage he saw in the other man's eyes.

"Get out of here _now_."

The words were barely more than a whisper, and yet held more threat than any shout. Alex pulled on his arm again, and this time he didn't fight her. With a last look at the dead body of the young cop, Bobby and Alex stumbled back up the embankment and disappeared into the trees.

* * *

"Owen," Jack choked out in a less angry but heavily distressed voice. Owen was there in an instant, tearing Ianto's shirt open to get a closer look at the wounds.

"Okay, it's not as bad as it looks," Owen murmured. "I had worse in that bloody cage. Worst thing is probably going to be his ribs, mate. I'm tipping he's got a few that are cracked at the very least. Ianto, you with me? C'mon, Teaboy, stay with us."

Ianto shuddered and forced his eyes open again.

"Jack…"

Jack leaned down and pressed his lips to Ianto's forehead in a gentle kiss.

"I'm here. Just try and relax, let Owen help you. Damn it, Ianto, what the hell were you thinking?"

"Didn't… think…"

"No kidding," Jack retorted. "Next time, just let me shoot the damn thing, will you? Don't go getting in the way."

A weak smile flickered across Ianto's lips.

"Don't worry. Lesson learned."

Jack smiled back, quietly relieved that Ianto was even capable of smiling, given the amount of pain he had to be in. He looked up at Owen questioningly.

"Does he need a hospital?"

"No, I don't think so," Owen mused. "'Course, I won't know if he has any broken ribs until I can use the deep tissue scanner on him, but if we can just get him back to the hotel, that should be okay. Then I can get the scanner from One Police Plaza, and check him out properly."

"Gwen, here," Jack said, tossing her the SUV keys. "Go back and get the SUV. Bring it as close to us as you can. And if anyone tries to stop you, don't take any crap. Understand?"

She nodded wordlessly, and took off to do as she'd been asked. Jack then returned his attention to Ianto.

"You're going to be okay. Just hang on."

* * *

Neither Bobby nor Alex dared to stop until they were safely back at her car. Then, and only then, did either of them look back.

"What in the name of God was that thing?" Alex gasped as she leaned over and braced her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. Bobby shook his head and spoke, even though he didn't really think she expected an answer from him.

"I… I don't know. I really don't know…"

Alex turned back to him, and the horror and shock faded a little as she got a good look at her partner's bloodied hands.

"Bobby, your hands…"

She strode over to take a closer look, and cringed a little at the sight. Both of his hands had been clawed, but the left was definitely in worse condition than the right. Both were bleeding profusely, and if she wasn't mistaken, she could see white bone through the torn flesh.

Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, she quickly wrapped it around his left hand and started to usher him towards the car. He hesitated, though, turning to look as Gwen emerged from the trees at a run.

"Gwen…?" Bobby asked in a slightly shaky tone. "Is… Is he going to be okay?"

Gwen paused, eyeing the two of them grimly. The truth was, she was fairly sure that Ianto would be fine but, like Jack, she felt more than a little bitter towards the two detectives. All the same, she reminded herself, it wasn't as though they had deliberately gotten Ianto hurt. Keeping that in mind, Gwen spoke to them in a forcibly calm voice.

"He'll live. Now I suggest you both get out of here." She turned her attention to Alex. "Get him to a hospital, Detective, before he collapses."

Having said that, she climbed into the SUV and drove it further into the Park, heading towards the area that Bobby and Alex had just fled.

"C'mon, you," Alex muttered grimly as she helped him get into her car, and put the seatbelt on. "I'm getting you to the hospital."

She knew Bobby was in serious pain when he put up no argument. She watched in concern as he sank back into the seat, his breath coming in short gasps. Shock was starting to take hold, she realised… although, whether it was shock from his injuries, or shock from what they had witnessed, Alex had no way of knowing. Bobby was already beyond being able to communicate in any way.

"Hang on, Bobby," she told him grimly. "Just hang on for a few more minutes…"

* * *

_tbc..._


	8. Aftershocks

_St Vincent's Hospital_

Mike Logan hated waiting rooms. He especially hated waiting rooms in hospitals. He hated the smell, the look, the feel… Basically, he hated everything about hospitals, usually because it meant sitting around helplessly, waiting while a friend, or perhaps a colleague, fought for their life. It was the sort of misery that he honestly felt he could do without in his life.

Right then, however, his reason for being in the Emergency waiting room of St Vincent's hospital was because he was waiting to talk to a snitch that he used on a semi-regular basis. This particular snitch had a bad habit of pissing off all the wrong people, and this time it had gotten him knifed. It wasn't a serious wound, although anyone who heard the guy shrieking might have thought he was dying. In reality, it was barely more than a flesh wound, and had almost stopped bleeding by the time Mike got to him.

That was the other point that was irritating the hell out of him right then. Why, out of all the cops in the whole of the Five Burroughs, did the guy have to call _him_?

He'd asked that very question while they waited on an ambulance to arrive, and the snitch had shrugged unapologetically and given an answer that made Mike want to walk away and let him bleed out.

"_Because you're the only one who'd actually come."_

As it was, Mike had satisfied his urge to violence by smacking the idiot across the head. Now, though, he was stuck waiting for a chance to talk to him, to try and figure out who had attacked him. After all, if it had been a genuine attempt on his life, regardless of how botched it had ended up being, he still was obliged to investigate it.

And so there he was, sitting in the Emergency waiting room waiting room when Bobby and Alex arrived. He sat, watching in surprise and concern, as Alex guided an increasingly dazed Bobby through to the currently unattended administrative counter.

"NYPD!" Alex gasped as Bobby stumbled against her. "I need help here!"

Her panicked tone galvanised Mike, and he launched himself to his feet. He grabbed a wheelchair that had been sitting idle by the wall and pulled it over, urging Bobby to sit down in it. It was telling, he thought grimly, that the big detective never so much as uttered a word of protest.

"Alex, what happened?" he asked as a nurse who came running took control of the wheelchair and took Bobby through into the ER. Alex shook her head helplessly, looking dazed and utterly confused.

"I… I don't know, Mike. I don't even know how to begin to describe it."

"C'mon," he murmured, tugging gently on her hands. "Come over here and sit down."

He tried to guide her to a nearby seat, but she was having none of it, her eyes locked on the swinging doors through which her partner had been taken for treatment.

"No, Mike. I need to go with Bobby…"

Under ordinary circumstances, Mike would never have dared to do what he did next. Under ordinary circumstances, Alex would have decked him for even trying. She was in the early stages of shock, though, and he took full advantage of the fact that she was in no fit state to argue with him.

Taking a firm hold of her shoulders, Mike turned Alex around and walked her across to an empty chair, where he firmly sat her down. Crouching down in front of her, he gently urged her to focus on him, rather than the doors that led into the ER.

"Talk to me, Alex. What happened? Tell me from the beginning, okay?"

Alex drew in a gulping breath, and opened her mouth, as though she was about to answer him. Instead, she very nearly sent Mike flying over backwards as she bolted past him and ran for the bathroom.

Mike watched her go with a heavy sigh before pulling out his cell phone. Alex and Bobby would probably both kill him for what he was about to do, but there was no putting it off any longer. It was time to call Ross.

* * *

Danny Ross had just returned to his office with a fresh cup of coffee, extra-strong, when his cell phone rang. Frowning, he checked the caller ID, and then found himself having to resist an urge to roll his eyes before answering the call.

"Whatever it is, Logan, it had better be good."

Ross could almost hear Mike cringing on the other end of the line, and fought back a grin.

"_Captain, I'm at St Vincent's. Eames just brought Goren into the ER."_

Ross felt his stomach drop unpleasantly, and an icy cold wave swept down his body. His first coherent thought was remembering Bobby's earlier call, telling him what they were doing… and his consent. What, he wondered with a sick feeling, had he allowed them to walk into?

Fighting down the shock, Ross forced himself to speak slowly and in a calm tone that belied how he was really feeling.

"Is he seriously hurt, Logan?"

Not for the first time, Mike was impressed that the captain's first thought was for his detective's wellbeing, rather than any potential implications, political or otherwise. He was just sorry that he couldn't give a more positive or reassuring report. He spoke grimly, knowing full-well that nothing he could say right then was going to alleviate the captain's concerns.

"_I don't know, sir. It was his hands that were injured. I don't exactly think it's life-threatening, but it looked like he was losing a hell of a lot of blood, and I think they were both in shock."_

"Was Eames hurt?"

"_No, sir, just Goren."_

"Is she there now, Logan? I want to talk to her."

"_She, uh… She's kind of indisposed, Captain."_

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Mike wanted to smack himself across the head. If Alex had heard him say that, he had no doubt that she _would _have. As it was, the statement was met by a lengthy silence from Ross. No doubt, Mike thought wryly, trying to decide how best to answer.

"What do you mean, _indisposed_, Logan?"

"_Well, I tried to get her to tell me what happened, but she turned kind of green and ran for the bathroom. I think she was starting to go into shock, Captain, and believe me when I say that almost never happens with her. So whatever happened to them, I think it must have been bad."_

Ross didn't argue with Mike on that point. He knew already how true a statement it was. A moment later, he made a snap decision.

"Logan, take care of Eames, and make sure that she's okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"_What are you going to do, Captain?"_ Mike asked, and the tone of his voice suggested that he could sense a great deal of trouble headed their way.

"Never mind, Logan. Just do as I say, and look after Eames."

He snapped his phone closed before Mike had a chance to argue further and stood up, clenching his jaw grimly. It was time to find Torchwood, and confront Captain Jack Harkness.

* * *

_Plaza Hotel_

By the time the team made it back to their hotel suite, Ianto had finally given in to the shock and the loss of blood, and had passed out. To the great interest of the other three, Jack would not let them help him carry the Welshman, and rather than taking him into Ianto's room, Jack carried him straight to his own room. There, the women beat a strategic retreat the moment Owen stated that Ianto's clothes would probably have to be removed, to allow him to properly tend to him.

It was only when Jack had laid Ianto down on the crisply made sheets with absolute loving care did he finally allow Owen to step in and start scanning the younger man to see the extent of his injuries. Even then, though, Jack continued to hover anxiously, and Owen couldn't help but notice that he refused to completely relinquish contact with Ianto, keeping one hand lightly on Ianto's uninjured shoulder.

"You know, Jack," Owen muttered as he passed the scanner slowly over Ianto's wounds, "if you're not careful, we might start to think that you and Ianto have a thing going."

Jack stared at Owen, eyebrow raised.

"A _thing_? That's really eloquent, Owen. And if that's your subtle way of trying to get me to admit that Ianto and I are sleeping together, then you can knock it off. You know damn well that we are."

"Oh, I know you are, mate," Owen agreed calmly. "I just can't help wondering at what point Ianto shifted from being your part-time shag to something a little more permanent."

The look that Jack sent in Owen's direction would have frozen vodka, but the young medic seemed unfazed by the glare from his captain.

"Don't give me that 'what the hell are you talking about' look, Harkness. Ianto was nothing more than a challenge to you to begin with, and you bloody well know it. But somewhere along the line, that changed. He told me once that you needed him, and I told him he was dreaming… but he was right, wasn't he? You really do need him."

Unsettled by Owen's uncharacteristic perceptiveness, Jack instead focused on Ianto's bruised face. It did precious little to improve his mood, though. If anything, it only served to make him angrier still.

Owen watched him out of the corner of his eye before speaking again quietly.

"C'mon, Jack. Would it hurt so much to admit you do actually need someone else?"

"Why do you want to know?" Jack demanded in a heavily defensive tone. "Why are you even asking, Owen?"

He just barely managed to refrain from throwing Diane's name into the mix. To bring up the subject of Owen's lost love would have been unnecessarily cruel and just plain unfair.

"Because," Owen threw back at him, "even I can see that this is one truth that you haven't admitted to yourself yet, and it's about bloody time that you did… for Ianto's sake, if nothing else. You're not infallible, even with this whole ruddy immortality thing that you've got going for you. Why the hell can't you just admit that you love him? None of us are going to judge you over it, Jack. You ought to know that much by now."

A shudder swept visibly through the Captain, and when he spoke his voice trembled noticeably.

"That isn't the reason."

"No? Then what?"

Jack shut his eyes as memories that were best forgotten forced their way to the surface of his mind.

"He killed him."

Owen paused in his work, staring at Jack in confusion.

"Who killed who?"

"The Master," Jack whispered hoarsely. "The Master killed Ianto."

Owen blinked, thrown by Jack's words and wondering with growing trepidation whether the Captain had finally snapped.

"What are you talking about, Jack? Ianto's right here, and I admit that he looks a little worse for wear, but he's going to be all right…"

"I'm not talking about here and now," Jack snapped. "I mean during that year… The year that wasn't."

And then Owen finally realised what Jack was talking about.

"You mean when you were a prisoner on the Valiant?"

Jack nodded quickly, and though his head was down once more, Owen couldn't miss the tears that fell onto the sheet.

"Yes. The Master… He got inside my head, found out about Ianto. He found out how much I care about him, so he had Ianto tracked down, captured and brought to the Valiant. The son of a bitch made me watch Ianto being tortured and murdered. He did it right in front of me, Owen. I can still see his eyes, see him watching me… I can still hear him begging me to save him… and I can still see him dying right in front of me… just out of my reach."

Owen made a soft noise of sympathy.

"Okay. So now I get why you practically kissed his face off when you came home."

"Just seeing him alive," Jack admitted, "unhurt… untouched by what happened…"

He trailed off, trembling badly, and Owen nodded in understanding.

"It's okay, Jack. I understand."

Jack stared down at Ianto's passive, pale features before speaking softly.

"I do love him… and it scares the hell out of me."

Owen smiled wryly at the soft, frank admission.

"Mate, you wouldn't be human if it didn't. 'Course, now I also get why you nearly shot that cop."

An odd look flickered across Jack's face, mixed with a small amount of regret.

"It wasn't his fault… or his partner's. I was just reacting to Ianto getting hurt. They followed us, but they didn't interfere until that beat cop got involved. Stupid kid… We'll have to do something about that."

"If I know Tosh, she already has," Owen said placidly. "Don't worry about it, Jack."

Jack rubbed a hand restlessly over his face.

"It wasn't Bobby's fault. He was just defending his partner… and I can't blame them for being curious and wanting to know what's going on. Damn it, I should have anticipated this!"

"Don't be daft, mate," Owen told him in a dismissive tone. "How could you possibly anticipate there being a weevil in New York? Although, this _is_ New York, so I suppose anything's possible, given what I've heard about the place."

Jack couldn't quite hold back a smile at Owen's flippant tone.

"I know," he murmured. "Give me Cardiff any day… even _with_ the rift."

Owen smirked as he stepped back.

"I'll second that. Okay, he's intact. He's got a couple of cracked ribs, but there's nothing actually broken. The gashes and bite wound will heal, but he's going to be sore for a while until they do. I don't want him up and about for at least twenty-four hours, though."

Jack snorted in response to that.

"Good luck with that."

"I'm counting on you to make sure of that, Harkness," Owen told him in a mildly threatening tone. "Tell him I'll sedate him if I have to."

Again, Jack snorted.

"You'd never get that past him, Owen, and you know it."

Owen only smirked as he began to work at disinfecting the Welshman's wounds.

"I did it to you, Jack. If I can pull off sedating you, then I can do it to him. But… I'd really prefer not to. If we were back home, I would in a second, but we're in an unfamiliar place, with God knows what lurking out there. That, and I want a decent cup of coffee from him when he _is_ up and about again."

Jack laughed softly.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do, but I'm not promising anything."

"That's all I wanted to hear," Owen reassured him. "Look, he'll listen to you, Jack. I think you're the only one he _will_ listen to. Make sure he stays in bed… even if you have to stay there with him."

A grin started to spread across Jack's face, but Owen held his hand up to silence Jack even before he could begin to speak.

"No, don't go there. I don't want to hear it."

Jack chuckled and was about to speak anyway when Gwen's voice cut through the otherwise quiet of the room.

"No, you can't come in!"

And then, a familiar and unwanted voice followed Gwen's outburst.

"I want to see your Captain, Miss Cooper, and I want to see him now! Don't tell me he's not here, because I know damn well that he is!"

Jack and Owen exchanged looks across Ianto's unconscious form, and Owen felt himself cringing at the dark expression that rapidly began to build up on Jack's face.

"Isn't that…?" Owen started to ask, and Jack finished the question for him.

"Captain Ross. Probably here about his detectives. Owen, stay here with Ianto. I'll deal with this."

"Just don't shoot him," Owen called after him as the Captain disappeared out of the bedroom. "Only, the blood's a right bugger to get out of the carpet."

* * *

Danny Ross was used to dealing with subordinates. Despite his own rather diminutive stature, he was used to being able to intimidate people when he needed to. Gwen Cooper and Toshiko Sato were subordinates and, despite the authority that being a part of Torchwood apparently gave them, both women still cowed when he confronted them.

Even so, neither one of them seemed to be willing to take him to their Captain, or go and get him. They may have been intimidated by him, but it appeared they were intimidated even more by their own leader.

"Do I have to search every room myself for him?" he demanded, glaring from one woman to the other with a ferocity that was fed by his very real fear for Bobby Goren's wellbeing. Before either woman could answer him, though, a new voice spoke with a fury to rival Ross's.

"No, Captain Ross, you don't. I'm right here."

Ross turned to face Jack, and almost recoiled from the other man's visible rage. At the last moment, he collected himself and spoke in as fierce a voice as he could manage.

"Captain Harkness, you have a hell of a lot to answer for. One of my detectives is currently in the Emergency Room at St Vincent's Hospital being treated for severe blood loss, and the other is apparently in a severe state of shock. What the hell did you and your team do to them?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Ross noticed both Gwen and Toshiko retreating slowly, their eyes fixed firmly on Jack. He barely had a chance to wonder about it, for a second later Jack's fist connected with his jaw and all of a sudden he was flat on his back on the floor, with a very angry American captain towering over the top of him.

"What did _we_ do? You want to know what _we_ did? I'll tell you what we did, Captain Ross. We saved their sorry asses from getting killed! That's what we did! And I'm telling you right now that if they… _and you_… had obeyed what I told you all right from the beginning, then Detective Goren wouldn't have been injured, and Detective Eames wouldn't be in shock. Because neither of them would have been anywhere near us this morning! Tell me something, Captain. Did you approve them following us? You did, didn't you? You stupid, arrogant ass, you could have gotten them _and_ us killed!"

Slowly, Ross pushed himself up, one hand coming up to rub gingerly at his jaw.

"You pack a hell of a punch, Captain Harkness," he admitted ruefully. Jack said nothing, but stepped back deliberately to give Ross the space to stand up again. He did so, torn between being remorseful for what was starting to look like a serious lack of judgment on his part, and wanting to arrest Jack for assaulting a police officer. He finally settled for something in the middle.

"Yes," Ross said coolly. "I did approve them following you because, frankly, I don't trust you. I don't know what your agenda is, and I don't trust secret organisations."

"The secrets we keep are for _your_ own good," Jack snapped.

"Not when it leads to my detectives being injured!" Ross snapped right back. The anger flared back up in Jack's eyes.

"Injured? You think Bobby was injured? He barely got scratched, Captain Ross. You want to see the real result of your detectives' interference this morning? Fine, then. Come with me."

He turned and strode away, not waiting to see whether Ross followed him – simply assuming that he would. Ross stared after Jack with suspicion and mistrust, but finally conceded and hurried after him.

* * *

Owen was just putting the finishing touches on the gauze he'd fitted to Ianto's shoulder, and was about to start dressing the gashes to his side when Ianto awoke with a soft groan of pain.

"Easy," Owen murmured as the Welshman tried to move. "Stay still, Ianto. You undo any of my great medical work, and I'll be pissed."

Slowly, Ianto forced his eyes open and they gradually came to focus on the face that hovered above his own.

"O… Owen…?"

"Yeah, mate, it's me."

"Where am I?"

"Back at the hotel. No poncy American hospital for you, my friend. You've got the very best of care right here, in me!"

"Modest as ever," Ianto mumbled with half-hearted derisiveness. Owen smirked.

"No shame in being proud of the skills God gave us, Ianto. Unless, of course, your greatest skill is filing, cleaning up after your workmates and making the best coffee they'll ever drink."

Ianto eyed him in irritation.

"Do you ever want another cup of coffee from me?"

Owen held up his hands defensively.

"Point taken. I'll shut up now."

"Please do."

"Fine. Just try and stay still. I still need to dress your side, and it might hurt a little."

Ianto glanced again at Owen, and then tried to look down at his injured side, with little success.

"How bad is it?" he asked, sounding suddenly like a frightened child. Owen hesitated, and then rested his hand briefly on Ianto's shoulder, as Jack had done earlier.

"Probably not as bad as it feels. You lost a bit of blood… and you'll have some new scars to show off, but you'll be fine. As long as you don't try taking on anymore weevils for a while, there's no reason why you shouldn't make a full recovery."

Ianto fell quiet, but Owen noticed his eyes flickering around the room, as though searching for something… or someone… that wasn't there.

"He was here," Owen told him after a moment's silence. Ianto glanced back at him quizzically, and Owen smiled and shrugged unapologetically. "He was worried sick. Wouldn't leave you alone, even when I told him you'd be okay."

"Then where is he now?" Ianto asked, not quite able to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"He went out to deal with a problem," Owen told him. "Probably be back any minute. Just relax, okay?"

Ianto had no chance to respond to that with either scepticism or acceptance, for the door suddenly swung open and Jack walked in, his face darker than a thundercloud. The instant he saw Ianto was awake, though, the fury vanished, and he strode over to the bedside.

"Hey, you're awake."

"Apparently," Ianto sighed, taking relief in the comforting sensation of Jack's presence as the Captain sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, and allowed their fingers to intertwine. Before Ianto had a chance to say another word, another figure appeared in the doorway, and Ianto recognised the captain of the Major Case Squad. Jack looked around at him, his expression hard.

"_This_ is what the interference of your people did today, Captain Ross. It nearly got Ianto killed. Your detective got a scratch on him, nothing more. And believe me, it could have been a hell of a lot worse."

Ross stood stiffly in the doorway, pale as he stared at Ianto's battered form. Jack waited several long seconds before speaking again in a fractionally less harsh tone.

"Now turn around and walk out of here, Captain Ross. Go to the hospital, and see your detectives. And if you're smart, you'll tell them to forget about what happened this morning. Tell them to forget what they saw. Forget _everything_ they saw. And if you won't do that, then I will, and I guarantee I won't just be relying on words to do it. Do you understand me?"

Ross drew in a long, shaky breath. When he had come to the hotel to confront Jack, he had envisaged it going vastly different to this. The threat from the Torchwood leader could not be ignored, though, and even though Ross didn't understand what Jack was talking about when he said he would use other methods to make Bobby and Alex forget, something told him to take the man's words very seriously.

He was suddenly taken back to the words of warning from his friend in UNIT, who had told him to beware of Captain Jack Harkness. Before, that warning had been merely words, and he'd not really taken it to heart. Now, he found he had no choice. Jack's actions and threats had forced him to see the very real danger that the man presented.

He rubbed lightly at his jaw where Jack had punched him, and nodded with obvious reluctance.

"I understand. I'll tell them."

"Make sure you do," Jack growled. "Because if this happens again, and one of my people is hurt again as a result, then you don't want to know what I'll do."

With a last look at Ianto, Ross turned and strode from the room. It was only after they heard the outer door of the suite opening and then closing again with a bang that Jack finally relaxed.

"Well done, Jack," Owen remarked dryly as he carefully pressed a large patch of gauze over Ianto's side. "I think you scared the crap out of him."

Jack sighed softly, the anger bleeding out of him as fast as it had arisen.

"I just hope it was enough. Because this time was bad enough, but if they interfere again, and they come up against the Grysliaak, then neither one of those detectives will live to tell about it, and I don't want that on my head."

Gwen and Toshiko had reappeared in the doorway by then, and Gwen frowned reprovingly at Jack.

"It's not your fault if they won't do what you ask them to do. You can't take responsibility for everyone, Jack."

Jack was silent, momentarily lost in thought as he remembered the way the Doctor had so willingly taken responsibility for those he came into direct contact with – those who by pure accident were drawn into the dangers that seemed to follow him wherever he went. The way that the Doctor had taken responsibility for him from the moment he'd rejoined them on that forsaken planet so far into the future.

"They are my responsibility," he said softly, with a sadness that the others couldn't quite understand. "Whether I like it or not, they became my responsibility from the moment we took over from them yesterday. I can't just ignore that."

"Well, then," Tosh murmured, "let's hope they heed their captain's warning, and stay out of our business from now on."

A murmur of agreement swept through the team, but the look on Jack's face told them all that he didn't expect it to happen.

* * *

_St Vincent's Hospital_

When Ross arrived at the hospital, he soon found Mike and Alex in the waiting room. Alex was nursing a steaming cup of coffee, while Mike sat close to her, talking to her in a low voice. He spotted Ross first, and must have said as much to Alex, for she looked up as he approached them. She was fairly pale, he noted, but her eyes were alert. Any shock she'd experienced had clearly faded.

"Detectives," Ross greeted them soberly. "Eames, are you all right?"

She nodded slightly.

"I will be. I just… Captain, I can't even begin to explain what happened this morning."

"I'm not going to ask you to, either," he told her quietly. "Just tell me, how is Goren? Do you know?"

"He's okay," Mike answered. "We talked to a doctor just a few minutes ago. They had to stitch up his hands, and he won't be using them again for a little while, but he's otherwise okay."

"They wanted to keep him in overnight," Alex took over explaining. "The doctor said he wouldn't have a bar of it, so now they're hooking him up to a drip and blood bag to try and replace the blood and fluids that he lost before they release him."

"Your partner is a little too stubborn for his own good, Eames," Ross remarked wearily. Alex smiled just faintly.

"I know. It's part of his charm."

"Captain, are _you_ okay?" Mike asked, peering at Ross with a frown. "You've got a hell of a bruise coming up on your jaw. Didn't walk into a door, by any chance, did you?"

Ross again rubbed gingerly at his jaw. It was aching badly, now. That Harkness really did pack a punch.

"Not a door," he told them ruefully. "More like an iron fist."

"Someone punched you?" Alex asked, startled. After a brief moment's consideration, Ross decided he might as well spill the beans and tell them. He would probably have had to anyway, given the warning that Jack had demanded he pass on.

"I went to the Plaza Hotel before coming here. I wanted to see Captain Harkness, and demand some answers about what happened this morning."

"Let me guess," Mike mused. "It didn't go quite as you expected?"

Ross sighed.

"No. Harkness punched me. I don't think I've ever seen a man so angry, but still so in control of himself. My friend from UNIT was right. He is very dangerous. He gave me a warning to pass on to you and Goren, Eames."

Alex's expression shifted minutely.

"What warning?"

"He told me to tell you to forget about everything you saw this morning."

Alex stared at Ross incredulously.

"You can't seriously expect me to abide by that."

For several long seconds, the two of them stared at each other. Then, finally, Ross shook his head.

"No. No, I don't."

"Good," Alex growled. "Because a cop is dead, Captain, and there is no way I'm going to forget _that_."

Ross started, horrified.

"What?"

"He didn't mention that bit, did he?" Alex said bitterly. "Why am I not surprised?"

The captain hesitated, and then sat himself down beside her.

"He didn't tell me anything about this morning. Talk to me, Eames. Please, tell me what happened."

Over the next several minutes, Alex went slowly over what happened, from the moment Bobby had called her from outside One Police Plaza, right up to their arrival at the hospital, with Bobby injured and bleeding. She was silent for a moment, as though trying to think of anything she might have missed. Then, suddenly, she looked around at Ross with an anxious expression.

"One of them was hurt, too. That young guy who made that great coffee yesterday. Ianto, I think they called him. He put himself between Bobby and that… that _thing_. He looked like he was badly hurt."

"I don't think it was as serious as it looked," Ross murmured. "They took him back to their hotel rather than bringing him here to the hospital. And anyway, I saw him when I was there at the hotel. He was awake, and seemed to be more or less patched up. He was all right at any rate, Eames. Don't worry about him."

Alex sighed.

"It's not for me. I guarantee that when they let us in to see Bobby, that's going to be the very first thing that he asks; is that young guy okay. I just want to be able to give him a positive answer. It'll stop him from worrying and getting in the way of his own recovery."

"Fair enough," Ross conceded. "Did the doctor say how long it might be before we can go in to see Goren?"

"Maybe half an hour," Mike answered. "Since you're here, sir, if you want, I'll get you some ice. That's starting to swell."

"Guy must really pack a punch," Alex commented wryly. Ross nodded, and then regretted the action for the flare of pain through the lower half of his face.

"He did, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I suppose I can understand why he was so angry, too… and just between us, I think I may be lucky that all he did was hit me."

"How do you mean?" Alex wondered. Ross eyed his two detectives ruefully.

"Well, he told me to follow him, that he'd show me what our interference cost them. I followed him down to a bedroom, but he got ahead of me. When I caught up, he was sitting on the bed with Ianto, and he was holding his hand."

Silence met the revelation. Then, suddenly, Alex groaned.

"Damn, Bobby was right…"

"What do you mean?" Mike asked with a frown. Alex hesitated, and then a tight smile stole across her lips.

"Well… originally, Bobby thought that maybe we could get some more information if I let their captain hit on me… because he seemed to be checking me out in the task room yesterday. But then Bobby told me this morning that Harkness caught him in the first task room looking at their computers and equipment…"

"Nosy bastard," Mike retorted lightly. Alex smiled, and went on quietly.

"Bobby told me that the captain startled him, and he nearly fell over, but the captain caught him… and in the process got a little up close and personal, if you know what I mean."

Ross lifted an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to say that Captain Harkness was hitting on Goren?"

"I don't know if it was blatant as that," Alex admitted, starting to feel embarrassed for her partner. "But it definitely got Bobby thinking that the guy bats for the other team. Looks like he was right, too, if that's what you saw, Captain."

Ross couldn't quite keep a smile off his face.

"Well, we're not the FDNY. I'm not going to judge the man on his preferences. And I have to give it to him that he cares about his team."

"Captain, you don't seriously expect us to back away from this, do you?" Alex asked quietly. "Even after what happened this morning… _Especially_ after what happened this morning."

Ross was silent, staring at the floor as he mulled over the situation in his own mind. He could understand Alex's frustration. He was equally frustrated, but there did not seem to be any way past it.

"He threatened you and Goren both, Eames," Ross said quietly. "I don't know exactly what he thinks he'll be able to do, but he told me to make sure you agreed to forget about everything you saw this morning, or he'd take it into his own hands."

Alex snorted derisively.

"What's he going to do, drug us? Some sort of mind control? Give me a break, Captain."

"I know," Ross sighed. "But he seemed serious about it. Look, just for the moment, back away from it. Do you think you can do that? Just back away for now, and watch from a distance."

"I guess I can," Alex conceded, though she sounded none too happy about it. "I wouldn't be so sure about Bobby, though."

"I figured as much. That's why I'll be relying on you to keep a check on him, at least for the time being."

"He really is not going to like it, Captain," Mike commented quietly. "And if he thinks he's being stymied…"

"Captain, we saw a cop get killed!" Alex burst out. "A _cop_! And they've done something… I made a phone call, and according that kid's precinct, he was never even on duty this morning! No one even thinks he's missing, and they won't follow up on it! Those Torchwood assholes have covered it up somehow! How can you expect us… either of us… to just sit back and do nothing while that sort of crap is going on?"

"I didn't intend for it to be permanently," Ross growled. "Just until we can get our bearings again."

"_We_, Captain?" Mike pressed, and Ross answered with a nod.

"Yes, Logan. _We_. I don't leave my detectives hanging for any reason. I thought you would have all realised that by now."

"We have," Alex murmured. "Thankyou, Captain."

"All right, then," Ross conceded. "I'm going to have to get back to One Police Plaza. Both of you, stay here, and wait until the doctors are ready to release Goren. When they do, take him home and make sure he rests… even if you have to use extreme measures."

"Can I take that literally, Captain?" Mike asked with a grin, winning himself a thump on the arm from Alex. Ross smiled wryly.

"You know what I mean, Logan. Don't be a smart ass. Take him home, make sure he rests, and then tomorrow we will all work together to figure out how we're going to tackle this issue. All right?"

Alex and Mike looked at each other, and both of them nodded in concession.

"Good, Ross murmured. "I'll see you all back in the squad room tomorrow morning. Come to my office as soon as you all get in, and we'll work out what to do."

Then he was gone, walking away towards the exit.

"You know, he really isn't all that bad," Mike mused as Ross disappeared through the outer doors of the hospital. Alex smiled wistfully.

"I still miss Deakins a lot, but Ross is a good captain. I think even Bobby has to concede to that. He's supported all of us… even when he didn't really need to."

Mike nodded, thinking ruefully to the fight he'd gotten into with certain members of the FDNY, and the way it had been so publicly broadcast. He could easily have found himself kicked back to Staten Island for that, and yet Ross had stepped up to the plate and defended him vehemently. Subsequently, he was still working with Major Case, and enjoying it with a fervour that he had long thought he'd lost.

"And now he's got our backs with this Torchwood mob," Mike commented. "Whoever the hell they are." He paused, and then snorted softly. "And I thought the CIA spooks were bad. This lot is definitely worse."

"And yet…" Alex whispered, thinking back to the way the team had acted so closely together that morning. "I still don't know what that thing was that they were dealing with, but they knew what they were doing. Whatever it is that Torchwood is really about, I think they really know their work. I think that if that kid hadn't stumbled into the middle of it, they would have all been okay. In fact, I'm sure of it."

"The point," Mike said tersely, "is that he did, and now he's dead, and that lot seem to have managed to cover it up somehow. Whoever the hell they are, they can't just be allowed to get away with this."

Alex stared at Mike wanly.

"They've got their authority directly from the President, Mike. How do you go through that?"

"I know," Mike muttered sourly. He hesitated, and then sat back with a thud. "Shit. I guess we just have to wait, like Ross said for us to do. Damn it, I hate waiting."

"None of us like it," Alex murmured. "But we don't have a choice. Look, we'll do what he said, and wait for Bobby to be released by his doctor. Then we'll take him home..."

"He's not going to like that," Mike threw in, to which Alex replied with a frown.

"You think I don't know that, Mike? I know my partner. We'll be lucky if we don't have to threaten to tie him down to his bed..." At those words, an all-too-familiar grin lit up Mike's face, earning himself a threatening glare from Alex. "If you're planning on saying something lewd to that, then forget it. I _will_ hit you, Mike. I am not in the mood for it right now."

Somehow, Mike managed to wipe the smirk off his face, but the twinkle in his eye remained, much to Alex's frustration.

"Seriously," she muttered. "Working with you guys is like being back in high school, sometimes."

"And that's a bad thing how?" Mike chuckled. Alex just rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Mike. As I was saying, we'll take Bobby home, regroup, and then go back in tomorrow morning and we can all work out together... all _four_ of us... what to do about this Torchwood."

"If we just knew something about them," Mike murmured. "Maybe we can find something on the internet."

"Maybe," Alex agreed somewhat doubtfully. "If there is anything, it's probably buried pretty deep, though. Mike shrugged.

"What's the hurry? We've got the rest of the day, haven't we? And it might be the only chance we have of making Bobby stay put in his apartment. I mean, he's got to want to know about them as much as we do. Right?"

Alex nodded slowly, having to concede that Mike was actually right for once.

"Right," she agreed quietly.

"Great," Mike enthused. "That's settled."

"And you can be the one to tell Bobby, since you're the brilliant one who came up with that," Alex snorted. Mike rolled his eyes, but laughed softly.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

* * *

_At approximately the same time_

Bobby Goren felt sick to his gut, and it had nothing to do with the substantial pain from his injured hands. In his mind's eye, he could not keep himself from reliving that scene in Central Park over and over again. Whether his eyes were open or closed, he simply could not get it out of his head.

First, it was the sight of that creature... human in its shape, and yet so inhuman in its appearance. Its rippled skin and shark-like teeth were burned into his memory, and its enraged roars still rang almost painfully in his ears. Despite a strange humanoid sort of appearance, Bobby was quietly convinced that the creature was nothing even remotely human. The only question remaining in his mind – a question he would not be voicing to his colleagues – was whether the creature was native to Earth, or whether it was alien.

Then that young cop, fresh enough out of the Academy to still be enthusiastic about walking his beat, had stumbled into the midst of the chaos. The sight of that boy's throat being ripped open... literally ripped open... made Bobby want to throw up. It wasn't the sight of the blood and gore that bothered him, mind you, although that had been bad enough. No, what turned his stomach was knowing that a young man not even in his prime had had his life torn away from him the blink of an eye. That galled Bobby almost more than anything else that had happened that morning.

Almost...

He and Alex had not planned on showing themselves, but when that kid had stumbled into the path of that monster, neither one of them had been able to keep out of sight. Galvanised by the knowledge that a brother cop was in danger, they had left the safety of their hiding place, and run down that narrow slope into the middle of the chaos.

In hindsight, Bobby knew that had been a very big mistake. By the time they'd reached the bottom of the slop, the kid had already been well and truly dead, and there was nothing either of them could have done to help him. All they'd managed to do was to put themselves into the path of the monster, and it had quickly focused on Alex.

Bobby was still quietly thanking God that his reactions hadn't slowed down so much that he hadn't been able to shove Alex out of the way, and he hoped fervently that she wouldn't be too pissed at him for it. If there was one thing she particularly hated, even more than the NYPD's buddy-boy system, it was what she viewed as unnecessary displays of chivalry. He knew she only accepted him opening doors for her because it was a behaviour that had been ingrained in his consciousness from a very young age, and even she was never going to change that.

So he had shoved Alex out of the monster's path, only to put himself directly in the line of fire. He'd tried to shoot it... He couldn't even remember now whether he had managed to get any shots off at all. He thought he had, but then the creature hadn't even slowed down, so maybe he hadn't.

It had swiped at him, there had been a white hot pain in his hands, forcing him to drop his gun, and he'd lost his balance and fallen over backwards... And then, suddenly, the young man from Jack's team... the one in the suit... had been between him and the creature. That young man had gotten himself mauled, Bobby realised with a sick feeling deep in his gut. He'd gotten himself mauled to protect a clumsy, dumb-ass cop who hadn't known enough to stay out of a situation that he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

Fresh guilt gnawed at Bobby as he recalled that young man... Ianto, he thought his name was... as he recalled him lying on the ground, bleeding profusely and barely conscious. He thought of him, and all of a sudden, the pain in his hands didn't seem anywhere near as bad as it had just a moment ago. But as he recalled the scene, he remembered something else of interest. After Jack had pushed him away, the Torchwood captain had pulled Ianto to him, cradling him like... like a lover, Bobby realised with some interest. Not like a friend, but like a lover.

No wonder he'd reacted so vehemently to the young man being injured, Bobby mused, and felt all the more worse for being at least partially responsible for that.

His thoughts were effectively derailed when the curtain surrounding his bed was pulled back, and Alex came in, followed by Mike Logan.

"Mike?" Bobby asked in confusion. "When did you get here?"

"I was here when you and Alex came in, pal," Mike told him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine," Bobby murmured, his gaze shifting to Alex as he spoke. "Are... Are you okay?"

She reached out to squeeze his shoulder gently, reassuringly.

"I'm fine, Bobby, thanks to you."

The relief on Bobby's face was plain to see, and it took some effort for Mike not to laugh. He had a powerful feeling that neither of them would appreciate it.

"What about Ianto?" he asked tentatively, and Mike nudged Alex.

"You were wrong. It wasn't the first thing he asked."

"Shut up, Mike," Alex retorted. And then, to Bobby, "He's okay, Bobby. Captain Ross said he saw him at the hotel where they're staying. Apparently he's a little beat up, but more or less okay."

Bobby grimaced, not sure whether to be relieved by that or not. He decided it wasn't the right time to be dwelling on a guilt-laden subject such as that one.

"As soon as they give the okay," he went on quietly, "I can get out of here, and we can get back to One Police Plaza... What? What is it?"

Mike and Alex exchanged looks, and Alex smirked at him unapologetically.

"I told you, genius, you can break the news."

"What?" Bobby demanded, starting to sound agitated, and as his voice rose, so did his heart monitor. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Okay, calm down, pal," Mike told him quietly, anxious to avoid having a nurse come to investigate the disturbance. "Just calm down. I'll tell you. Ross was here..."

Bobby looked sharply at Alex, who shook her head and indicated towards Mike.

"Not me. He called him, but don't worry. He wasn't pissed... Well, not at us."

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked, puzzled. Alex hesitated, and then decided she might as well tell him.

"After Mike called him, Ross went looking for our mysterious Captain Harkness. Tracked him down to their hotel suite, and confronted him over what happened this morning. And, um... Harkness decked him."

Bobby blinked, stunned.

"He... _hit_ him? Jack hit Ross?"

"_Jack_?" Mike snorted. "You're on a first-name basis with this asshole?"

Bobby grimaced.

"Maybe not after this morning. Go on, Mike."

"Okay. So, Ross came here after... _talking_ to Harkness, and he told us he didn't want to see any of us back at One Police Plaza until tomorrow morning. He said to take you home, make sure you were okay."

Bobby met that with silence, and Mike and Alex exchanged worried glances. Silence could be either good or bad with Bobby – there was often no knowing which it was. All they could hope was that this time he would be accepting.

It seemed their prayers would be answered this time, as Bobby visibly relaxed.

"I guess that's not such a bad idea," he murmured, his gaze flickering to his heavily bandaged hands. "I'm not going to be much good to anyone anyway, am I?"

On impulse, Alex leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"You always find a way to be useful, Bobby, but it won't hurt to take one afternoon off. And I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to hit the internet, and see if we can't find anything out about this Torchwood. There must be something about them on it somewhere. Even if it's just scraps of information, I'll find it."

Bobby nodded approvingly.

"I like that plan."

"Good," Alex murmured, more than a little relieved at his acquiescence. "That's what we'll do, then."

Bobby hesitated, then, and Alex felt her heart sink once more. She could sense what was coming as clearly as if it were flashing on a ten foot sign surrounded by neon lights.

"That kid... The beat cop... What's happening with him?"

Silence passed, and Bobby's forehead creased slowly into a frown.

"What is it? Alex?"

"They've covered it up," Alex said softly. "Somehow, they've managed to cover it up."

Bobby went very abruptly quiet at that, much to Mike and Alex's concern. When he spoke again, there was a suppressed fury in his tone that both of his colleagues knew so well.

"We saw him die... and they've covered it up? Like it never happened?"

"Yeah," Alex whispered hoarsely.

Bobby said nothing more, but there was a new resolve in his expression and, in that moment, Mike and Alex almost pitied Captain Jack Harkness when Bobby got a hold of him next.

* * *

_tbc..._


	9. The Calm Before The Storm

_A/N: _I would like to reiterate that the Jack/Ianto slash pairing in this story is not a case of wishful thinking on my part. It is a canon pairing in the actual television show of Torchwood. The only liberties I have taken are with how advanced their relationship is.

On another note, for anyone struggling to understand the character of Jack, and what he's all about, just check out Wikipedia. You'll get all the info you need.

* * *

_Later that day_

Jack was in the sitting room of the hotel suite when Ianto emerged from the bedroom, shuffling slowly across the floor. Looking up at the sound, Jack was on his feet in an instant and at Ianto's side a moment beyond that.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jack asked, his voice soft with concern and affection. "Owen told you to stay in bed."

Ianto favoured Jack with a flat stare.

"Would you be able to, Jack? I don't think so. Anyway, I'm sick of being on my back."

Jack grinned, unable to resist such an opportunity.

"Suits me. Next time you can be on top."

"Don't be a prat," Ianto murmured with an affectionate smile as Jack ushered him to the nearby lounge suite.

"You bring it out in me," Jack countered, but Ianto only grinned.

"Jack, anything with a sex drive brings it out in you."

Jack tried to look mortified, and failed miserably.

"Not my fault," he said with a chuckle. "That's what happens when you come from a time when the nearest human could be a million light years away."

"You must have some very intriguing tales to tell from when you were with the Time Agency," Ianto mused. Jack shrugged.

"Nothing really out of the ordinary."

"For your time," Ianto pointed out, and Jack conceded with a nod.

"Fair point. If you don't mind, though, I'll save _those_ stories for another time, when you're fit to rise to the occasion."

"Incorrigible," Ianto murmured as Jack leaned in to kiss him briefly. He could feel the other man smile against his lips.

"I hope so."

A sharp beeping interrupted their moment, and Jack pulled back with reluctance to look down at his leather wrist control.

"Always at the wrong moment..."

Ianto smiled amusedly as Jack flipped the top open and began to manipulate dials.

"What is it?" Ianto asked after several long seconds of silence.

"It's an alert," Jack answered, quickly becoming serious again. "Someone's searching on the internet about Torchwood... and I bet I know who."

"Our detective friends," Ianto said, and Jack nodded.

"More than likely." He sighed. "I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to ret-con them. Stubborn idiots..."

"Would have thought you'd need to after this morning, anyway," Ianto said.

"I suppose so," Jack sighed. Ianto stared at him curiously.

"You really don't want to, do you? What is it about them that you're so reluctant? You didn't have any problems giving Gwen the ret-con that time."

Jack shrugged.

"Maybe I'm just a little less eager to dish it out after what happened with Suzie."

"That's not it," Ianto stated flatly, and Jack had to concede.

"No," he agreed. "That's not it. There's something about them... and about Bobby in particular. I think that they're open-minded enough to be able to deal with all of this."

"That's not the point, Jack," Ianto reminded him gently.

"I know," Jack murmured. "I'd better let Tosh know, and tell her to deal with it."

"She's at One Police Plaza?" Ianto wondered, and Jack nodded in confirmation as he leaned forward to the laptop that was sitting on the coffee table, and tapped out a quick message to Tosh.

"Yes, along with Gwen and Owen."

"And you're here because...?"

"Owen didn't want you left alone," Jack said with a noncommittal shrug as he settled back into the couch beside Ianto. "He had this crazy idea that if we left you here alone you'd do something stupid like try to get up."

Ianto's lips curved upwards in a slow grin that Jack found incredibly sexy.

"Wonder where he got that idea."

"Yeah," Jack chuckled. "I wonder. Anyway, it doesn't matter that I'm here. Probably best anyway, after what happened this morning."

"In the Park?"

"No, here in the hotel. I hit their captain."

"Ah, Jack..."

"Hey, he deserved it!" Jack argued. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Better to be away from there for a while. And Tosh, Gwen and Owen are just doing what they can for the moment. We've been side-tracked a little by what happened this morning. Tonight we'll have to talk through what we're going to do about the Grysliaak."

Ianto was silent for a long moment before speaking.

"You're certain, then? You're positive it's one of those creatures?"

Jack nodded soberly.

"Owen came back with the results of the scans he did on the bodies. There's no doubt."

"Jack..."

Before Ianto had a chance to say anything, though, Jack spoke quickly and firmly.

"Ianto, there's something I'm going to ask you to do, and you need to swear to me that you'll follow these instructions to the letter."

"Of course," Ianto murmured, though at the same time he felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably. "What is it that you need me to do?"

"This is if something happens to me," Jack told him quietly. "This creature... if it finds out about me, it's going to target me. Life forces are its prime source of food, and I'm an unending supply. If that happens, and I disappear, I need you to make sure that none of you come after me."

The horrified look on Ianto's face rent at Jack, but he went on quickly, in a strained voice.

"Just listen to me, Ianto. Don't argue. I'm not telling you to do nothing. I'm telling you not to do something that will get any of you killed. If what I said happens, I want you to call Martha Jones. Her contact details are in the Torchwood database. I put them there myself. If I disappear, what I want you to do is wait for twelve hours, and if you don't hear from me in that time then you call her, and give her a very specific message."

Ianto's breath caught in his throat as he realised Jack really was serious.

"What message?" he asked hoarsely. Jack was silent for a moment, as though mulling over exactly what to say. Then, he spoke in a soft, solemn voice.

"Tell her, _the Captain needs his Doctor_. And tell her, _Grysliaak_."

"And that's all?" Ianto wondered. Jack nodded.

"That's all you'll need to tell her. She has a means of calling the Doctor, Ianto. And if this operation goes pear-shaped, he's the only one who'll have a chance at stopping the Grysliaak."

Ianto didn't respond to that. Inwardly, he knew that Jack's words were no reflection on the Torchwood team, but he still couldn't help feeling as though Jack had no faith in them… and in him specifically. As if he knew what was going through the young man's mind, Jack leaned back in and covered Ianto's mouth gently with his own in a lingering and affectionate kiss.

"I trust you," Jack whispered, not bothering to completely disengage himself from Ianto's mouth as he spoke. "But I know what this thing can do, and the rest of you don't. I just don't want to risk losing any of you. I'll survive it. You wouldn't, and if that happened, I think that really would kill me."

Ianto believed him. Maybe there was nothing that could kill Jack permanently in a physical sense, but emotionally and mentally? After what Jack had told him about temporarily losing his sanity while aboard the Valiant, Ianto believed that there were some things that could result in another, even worse kind of death for Jack.

"Promise me," Jack begged, withdrawing from Ianto a little and staring into the other man's eyes with a real, palpable desperation. "Please, Ianto. Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"I promise," Ianto conceded finally, silently hoping that Jack didn't notice the fingers that he'd crossed behind his back in a determined, if slightly childish gesture.

"Thankyou," Jack murmured, and Ianto breathed a silent sigh of relief that Jack seemed to have accepted his promise without question.

"Are you all right?" Ianto asked quietly. Jack raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question.

"Me? I'm fine. Why?"

"Because you obviously didn't get very much sleep last night," Ianto answered. "Just what time _did_ you leave here this morning?"

The amused look in Jack's eyes faded.

"I didn't sleep for very long after I had that nightmare. I think you might have just gone to sleep when I woke up again, so I waited until I was sure that you were fast asleep, and then I got dressed and headed out. Just as well I did, too. I was at the squad room to catch Bobby Goren snooping at our gear."

"He's quite persistent," Ianto mused, and Jack smile almost wistfully.

"Yeah. Yeah, he is."

Ianto couldn't find it in himself to take offence, or feel any semblance of jealousy. He'd long accepted that Jack was not the type of man to ever settle down into a monogamous relationship; especially knowing now as he did that anyone Jack involved himself with would eventually age and die, while Jack himself would stay exactly the same. At that point in time, though, he was just happy to accept whatever Jack was willing and able to offer him.

"Relax, Ianto," Jack said with a low chuckle. "I wasn't planning on trying to seduce him. I was actually wondering how he'd go working for Torchwood."

That surprised Ianto, and he took a moment to think out an answer before speaking.

"I didn't realise you were looking for new recruits, sir."

Ianto's sudden reversion back to 'sir' wasn't lost on Jack, and he took the liberty of shuffling slightly closer to the young man.

"I'm not. It was just a thought. Besides, if I tried recruiting anyone else, I'd have the Doctor to deal with. Believe me, that would not be a pretty sight. He's terrifying when he's angry." He paused, and then added lightly. "And I definitely wouldn't do anything like that without consulting you first. Wouldn't do to piss off my second-in-command."

Ianto lifted an eyebrow in bemusement.

"I'm not your second-in-command, Jack. Owen is."

"Not from where I'm sitting right now," Jack whispered, leaning in once more for another kiss. Ianto smiled wryly, and surrendered himself to the pleasurable, comforting sensation of Jack's arms around him, and warm lips on his throat and jaw. Work, he decided, could definitely wait until much later.

* * *

"What's that?" Gwen wondered as Tosh's laptop suddenly chimed.

"Message from Jack," she answered, shifting smoothly from the program she was monitoring to the incoming message. "He says Ianto is up and about, and not to tell Owen…"

Gwen snorted with ill-suppressed laughter.

"Owen'll kill him."

"Jack or Ianto?" Tosh wondered, feeling a smile creep onto her own face.

"Both," Gwen retorted. "Ianto, for getting up in the first place; and Jack for letting him."

"Not if we don't tell him," Tosh pointed out, but that only made Gwen laugh all the more.

"C'mon, Tosh. Do you really think Owen won't know?"

Tosh smiled and started to shake her head dismissively when she realised there was more to the message.

"Hold on a second, there's more… Oh… Damn…"

"What is it?" Gwen wondered, not feeling particularly concerned by Tosh's less than energetic exclamation.

"Jack said someone's trying to search us out on the internet. He wants me to deal with it. He thinks it's those detectives."

"Don't know when to quit, do they?" Gwen muttered, frowning.

"Jack seemed impressed with them," Tosh mused as she began to type furiously on the laptop. "That is, when they weren't almost getting Ianto killed."

Gwen chose not to reply to that, much to Toshiko's interest. A moment later, she hit the enter key with a flourish.

"There. Most of the sites that mention us are just rubbish sites with no valid information, but if they gain access to any of the sites that have any real information on us, it'll trigger a virus that will burn out their hard drives and wipe their computer's memory."

"Nice," Gwen said appreciatively. Tosh grinned proudly.

"Thankyou."

* * *

Bobby and Mike were in the kitchen in Bobby's apartment – Mike helping himself to a bottle of beer from Bobby's fridge while Bobby made coffee for himself and Alex – when there was a loud buzzing and hissing noise from the study, followed by a shriek from Alex. Exchanging startled looks, the two men hurried around to see what had happened. What they found was Alex sitting frozen in front of Bobby's computer, staring at a black monitor screen while a thin wisp of smoke escaped the hard drive.

"What happened?" Bobby asked, stunned. Alex let her breath out in a long hiss to rival the noise the computer had made.

"Someone set up a virus to attack the moment anyone accesses certain sites. It's burned your computer out, Bobby."

Bobby wasn't sure whether to be upset at the apparent loss of his computer or impressed by the skill it must have taken to set up such a trap. Mike had leaned in for a closer look, meanwhile, and whistled softly.

"Wow, that thing is toast." He paused, glancing back at Bobby who still looked bemused. "Sorry, Bobby."

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's just a computer. Are you okay, Alex? It didn't give you a shock, did it?"

She shook her head, slowly pushing away from the computer.

"No. Just fizzed out on me. I've never seen anything like this happen before. They really are hell bent on protecting their secrets."

"You think Torchwood is responsible," Bobby murmured. It wasn't a question. Alex responded with a decisive nod.

"Yes, I do. I'm sure of it. I went through a heap of sites that had nothing important on them, but when I finally found something that _did_ have something… at least, I think it did… this happened! Now I _really_ want to know what they're hiding."

Bobby hesitated, and then spoke softly, so softly that both Mike and Alex had to struggle to hear him.

"I think that maybe we might have gotten an eyeful of what they're trying to hide this morning."

Both Mike and Alex looked around at him, one puzzled and the other suspicious.

"How do you mean?" Mike wondered, but Alex had already guessed.

"That… That thing," she murmured. "You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you? Please, tell me you are."

"It wasn't human," Bobby said softly, feeling a rush of relief that he was not the only one harbouring those thoughts and suspicions.

"Not human?" Mike echoed, sounding incredulous. "C'mon, guys, if it wasn't human, then what was it, some kind of mutated animal? You both said it stood up on two legs, after all. If it wasn't human…"

"Alien," Bobby said abruptly. Silence met his statement, and then Mike burst out laughing.

"Alien? Pal, are you sure you didn't bang your head? That is insane!"

"No, it's not," Alex said suddenly in a strained voice. "You didn't see it, Mike. It wasn't like anything I've ever seen before. It had this red, rippled skin… claws for hands… Its teeth were long and sharp and it had huge canines. But its eyes… Its eyes were almost human. Almost, but not quite. Mike, I know it sounds crazy, but I think Bobby might be right. I think it might be alien."

Mike shook his head, a dark look descending onto his features.

"No way, I can't accept that. I just can't."

With that, he turned and strode from the room, leaving them behind.

"Thankyou," Bobby murmured once Mike had gone from the room. Alex looked up at him, puzzled.

"For what?" she asked.

"For believing me," he answered simply. A weary smile flickered across Alex's face.

"It's okay. I have to admit, I'm finding it a little hard to get my head around it all, but I really do think you're right. And anyway, just saying it's alien doesn't necessarily have to mean we think it's from another world, or something like that. Right?"

It was a desperate effort to try and put some sense into something that made no sense whatsoever to either one of them, and Bobby wasn't going to argue with her over it. Instead, he reached up and took her hand in his in a gesture of wordless solidarity. Mike could believe whatever he wanted to believe. Bobby took comfort in knowing that even though Alex was still struggling to accept what seemed to be right in front of their faces, she was at least making a genuine effort.

He could understand she was frightened. He was, too, but he was also prepared to follow this path to wherever it led them both, and he was more grateful than he was capable of expressing to know that she was, as she had said so many times before, good for the ride.

* * *

_That night_

"I'm telling you, this is not a good idea," Owen said, not for the first time, as the Torchwood team walked slowly along the Manhattan street.

It was night time, and the New York night life was positively teeming. When Gwen, Tosh and Owen returned to the hotel, Gwen had enthusiastically urged them to get out for a while, and experience the city. Despite Jack's reservations, Gwen had been insistent and had gradually won them over. The only one less than enthusiastic had been Owen, though his concerns were primarily for Ianto, who he maintained should have stayed in bed in their hotel suite.

_That_ had proven to be an interesting discussion when they came back to the hotel, to find Jack and Ianto cuddled up together on the couch and in the middle of what appeared to be a prolonged embrace. Owen had exploded, first blasting Jack for not keeping his promise to make sure Ianto stayed in bed, and then blasting Ianto for daring to get up.

Tosh and Gwen had watched the medic's outburst in trepidation, half-expecting Jack to get up and silence Owen by way of a fist to the face. To the astonishment not only of Gwen and Tosh, but Owen as well, both Jack and Ianto had burst out laughing and hadn't been able to stop for nearly twenty minutes. Every time they seemed to be getting themselves under control, one would look at the other, and they would simply dissolve into laughter once more.

In the end, Ianto won himself a severe gut cramp, but even that hadn't been able to keep the grin off his face. It had been at that point that Gwen had suggested they leave the hotel for a meal, rather than just ordering pizza or Chinese, as they were so often wont to do, and Ianto had been the first to agree.

Thanks to the concierge, they had found themselves enjoying a quiet dinner at a little, out of the way restaurant near the hotel. Afterwards, though, both Gwen and Tosh had resisted returning to the hotel, wanting to go on elsewhere and, as Gwen had put it, enjoy the city's nightlife. Jack had protested, until Ianto sidled up to him and whispered something to him that the others couldn't hear, but all three were able to guess at the content. The way Jack's face lit up was a dead giveaway, and Owen pounced on them both.

"When I said no strenuous activity, that included sex!"

The women had been reduced to peels of laughter as Jack's expression went from ecstatic to sulky in the space of a few seconds. Ianto had murmured something else to Jack, and the Captain had brightened just a little, enough to concede to the women's request to find somewhere else to spend some time.

That was where they found themselves now, walking along a Manhattan street and looking for somewhere that might suit their distinctly British tastes. What had prompted Owen's irritated comment was the way Ianto was getting slower and slower, as the pain from his injuries was slowly starting to overtake him once more. Jack eyed his lover in obvious concern.

"I can get us a taxi if you want, to take us back to the hotel."

"No, I'm okay," Ianto assured him.

"Ianto..." Jack started to protest.

"Jack, I said I'm okay," Ianto insisted. "And besides, you've had me shut up inside the suite for most of the day. I needed to get outside for a while, because knowing you, I'll be stuck inside One Police Plaza all day tomorrow. Just... don't go too quickly, and I'll be fine. It really isn't hurting that badly."

"Bullshit," Owen snorted. "You're crap at lying, Teaboy."

"But it isn't," Ianto protested. "Really..."

"Look, what about that place?" Gwen asked suddenly, anxious to put and end to the developing argument. They all looked around to see where she was pointing. It was a bar called O'Reilly's, and from the looks of it, it wasn't terribly crowded.

"Okay," Jack agreed. "We'll get a couple of drinks, and then we have to get back to the hotel. We do still have work to do, people."

Gwen nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and led the way across the street, and into the bar.

* * *

"If you ask me, I think this is a bad idea."

"Good thing we didn't ask you, then, Mike," Alex retorted as Mike brought drinks back to the booth for himself, Bobby and Alex. Mike shook his head ruefully.

"Look at me, I'm saying it's a bad idea to go to a bar and get pissed."

"Yeah, the world is going to implode and all existence will grind to a halt," Bobby said with a smirk. Mike glowered at him half-heartedly.

"Don't be a smart ass, Goren. Just because you're injured doesn't mean I won't smack you."

"That's Alex's job," Bobby threw back at him, and Alex just rolled her eyes as she held the Scotch up for him to have a mouthful.

"This is your last one, Bobby. Anymore, and you won't be capable of taking yourself to bed when we get back to your apartment, and I doubt Mike will want to help you out."

"Hey, why me?" Mike protested. Alex raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do I even have to bother answering that, Logan?"

Mike shook his head.

"No. Forget I asked."

"Wise boy."

Bobby sighed as he tested his current inability to pick up glasses on an empty Scotch glass. It slid out of his bandaged hands, fell onto its side on the table and was only saved from rolling off onto the floor by Alex's quick reflexes.

"Definitely your last one," she retorted. "Then we're taking you home. Seriously, Bobby, your hands must be hurting like hell by now."

"Nope," he replied with a tired smile and a faint spark in his eyes that hinted to Alex that he was not nearly as drunk as his actions suggested. "I'm self-medicating tonight."

"Idiot," she murmured affectionately.

"Hey," Mike murmured as his gaze went beyond Alex. "Look at who just walked in."

Both Bobby and Alex looked up simultaneously, and immediately saw who Mike was talking about. Captain Jack Harkness and his team had just walked into the bar.

Apparently oblivious to everyone around them, Jack led the way over to an empty booth and, as the three detectives watched with interest, aided the young Welshman who had been injured earlier that day in sitting down and sliding over to the wall of the booth. The other man and the two women crowded comfortably into the other side and Jack spoke to them briefly – taking orders, they assumed – before turning and heading to the bar.

"Guess Ross was right," Alex mused. "Maybe he wasn't hurt as badly as we thought."

Bobby, however, looked less than certain. As he watched, his sharp eyes picked out the way that Ianto winced as he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position. He was in pain, Bobby realised, and probably a lot of it. Before he quite realised it, Bobby was sliding out of the booth.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mike asked, frowning.

"Making amends," Bobby replied quietly, and headed away towards the bar before either Mike or Alex could stop him.

* * *

Jack was just reaching for the money clip that was tucked away within the folds of his coat when a familiar voice spoke to the barman from beside him.

"Put those drinks on my tab, Rick."

The barman nodded cheerfully.

"Whatever you say, Bobby."

Jack looked sideways to find Bobby standing there beside him, leaning gingerly against the bar. He kept his expression carefully neutral as he looked the other man over.

"Thanks," he said passively, not giving a thing away. Bobby gave a slight shrug.

"It's the least I can do. Look... I'm sorry for what happened this morning. We did the wrong thing, and you were right. We shouldn't have been there."

"No," Jack agreed. "You shouldn't have been there." He paused, eyeing Bobby's thickly bandaged hands. "How're the hands?"

"They hurt... but it could've been worse," Bobby answered softly. Jack nodded.

"Yes. It could have been. You could have been dead right along with that kid."

Bobby hesitated, and then spoke again in a tone that suggested he was struggling to form the right words.

"That kid shouldn't have been there, either. That's on our heads, not yours."

Jack raised an eyebrow slightly. It was clear he'd not expected such a contrite apology. Bobby's expression was not entirely passive, though, and his next words held the barest level of threat in them.

"But that aside, a cop did die today and yet, according to every official avenue, he's not even been reported missing."

"You want to know if we covered it up?" Jack asked, but Bobby shook his head.

"No. I _know_ you covered it up."

"Then what do you want, Bobby?"

"Uncover it. That kid deserves better."

"Sorry," Jack replied, sounding as though he wasn't the least bit sorry. "Can't do it."

"Why not?" Bobby demanded, suddenly struggling not to get angry. Jack turned to face him head on.

"Think about it. Think about what happened this morning. Knowing what you humans are like, you've probably already constructed some false memory to explain something that you really have no explanation for. You try to tell the powers that be what really happened this morning, and they'll have you in a psyche evaluation faster than you can blink. We're protecting you and your partner by covering up that kid's death."

"What, so I should be grateful?"

Jack snorted.

"I'm not that much of an idiot, that I'd make _that_ assumption."

"And neither am I, Jack. I'll tell you what happened this morning. A young cop was killed by a creature that wasn't human, and wasn't an animal. I can't tell you what it was, because I don't know. I've never seen anything like it before in my life, and part of me hopes I never do again. I can't say anything for sure, but I believe it was probably alien."

Anyone else would not have registered a change in Jack's expression, but Bobby was highly trained and even more highly skilled, and he easily picked up on a very slight shift in Jack's eyes. It was minute, and oh so fleeting, but it was there, and Bobby knew he'd struck a chord.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked quietly. "That creature wasn't even from this world. Which then begs the question, how did it get here in the first place and secondly, are there anymore out there?"

"Bobby..."

Bobby was on a roll, though, his mind shifting into high gear as more puzzle pieces began to drop into place.

"You all looked like you knew exactly what you were doing out there this morning... which makes me think you deal with creatures like that on a regular basis. That's what Torchwood is really about, isn't it? You're not some agency like the CIA. You deal with aliens, don't you? Makes sense, after everything that's happened around the world in the last couple of years... That spaceship over London last Christmas... What happened at Canary Wharf..."

It was with some effort that Jack contained his surprise. Before he had a chance to say a word, though, Bobby went on in a soft, urgent voice.

"And if that's all true, then why are you here now... unless..."

Jack felt the muscles in his gut clench almost painfully as he waited for the inevitable. Bobby paused, staring at Jack in shocked realisation.

"The one who's been killing those people... It isn't human, is it? It's alien. _That's_ why you're here."

Slowly, Jack slipped one hand inside his coat pocket, and closed around a small tube that he always carried with him, a tube with a minimal supply of ret-con. He had no intention of giving Bobby a dose yet. There was no point in doing that until it was time to leave... but he was certain now that he had no choice. Bobby Goren would have to be ret-conned.

"You're a perceptive guy," Jack remarked softly. Bobby, for his part, seemed to be taking no joy in the revelation.

"What is it?" he asked softly. "What is it that's killing those people?"

Jack stared at him intently.

"You're better off not knowing," he said simply. "Thanks for the drinks, Bobby. Now, go back to your friends, and forget about all of this. For your own sake, forget about all of it."

Picking up the tray with the drinks, Jack turned and carried it back to the booth where his team sat. Bobby watched him go, a leaden feeling in his stomach. He felt no joy in the discovery, and the triumph was a bitter one, for it only confirmed that he had finally come across a killer that he was no match for. He stood at the bar, watching shamelessly as the five members of Torchwood fell into a lively conversation. Minutes past, and then Jack glanced back at him. For just a brief moment, the two men locked gazes, and Bobby could almost swear he could hear Jack's voice echo within his mind.

_Go back to your friends. Forget about us_.

Forget? Bobby thought with a fresh wave of bitterness as he finally turned to go and rejoin Alex and Mike. He would never be able to forget. Never.

* * *

"Jack?" Gwen asked softly. "What is it?"

He tore his gaze away from Bobby, and forced a smile onto his face that he was certain that Gwen could see through.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"What did that detective have to say?" Ianto wondered as he sipped at the soda Jack had brought back to the table for him. Jack paused, and then settled on a half truth.

"He wanted to apologise for nearly getting you killed this morning."

Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"And what?" Jack asked a touch defensively. For a long moment Jack and Ianto stared at each other. Then Ianto seemed to concede, and shook his head.

"Nothing."

Jack grunted as he picked up his glass of water.

"Great. We've established a whole lot of nothing."

A surreptitious glance reassured him that Bobby had finally rejoined his friends. Although they were still looking in the team's direction, that was easy enough to ignore. Not so much when the big detective was standing staring at them from just a few metres away.

He took a mouthful of water, only to grimace a little and set the glass back down. There was nothing wrong with it, per se, but it just wasn't the same as the cool, clear water he could get from the pubs in Cardiff.

"Here."

He came back to the present to realise that Ianto had pushed his soda across to him. Jack hesitated, and then decided what the hell. He took a mouthful, relishing the slightly bitter after-taste that it left in his mouth.

"Thanks," he murmured. "Water's not quite the same here."

Owen snorted.

"And you actually sound surprised by that."

Jack smiled, but before he had a chance to say anything in response, Gwen let out an undignified squawk.

"A juke box! Owen, give me a quarter?"

Suspicion flooded Owen's face.

"Why?"

"Because I want to hear some music, and maybe have a dance," she retorted. "Why do you think?"

Owen shook his head.

"Oh no. No way. You're not getting me up there."

Jack watched the exchange with amusement, and something in him gave at Gwen's crestfallen expression. Digging into a coat pocket, he produced a quarter and tossed it to her. Throwing a triumphant grin at Owen, Gwen rushed off to the jukebox to pick a suitable song.

"I'm going to get you for that, Harkness," Owen told him wryly. Jack, however, only grinned back at him as he slid out of the booth and went to join Gwen as the sound of The Four Season's song _Oh, What a Night_ filled the air. The look on her face was priceless as Jack took her by her hands and began to dance with her, but the astonishment rapidly faded to be replaced by a genuine enjoyment as Jack expertly led her around the floor.

"Tosh, would you care to dance?"

Toshiko's eyes widened slightly at Ianto's soft but sincere offer.

"Are you…? I mean…"

He smiled reassuringly at her, and edged out of the booth, holding out a hand for her to join him. After just a moment's hesitation, Tosh accepted and Owen was left alone in the booth, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation at his colleagues.

* * *

"Well, at least they're having fun," Mike remarked dryly as the detectives watched the two couples move easily around the floor. Alex nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed, and neither Bobby nor Mike could possibly miss the wistful note in her voice. "They are, aren't they?"

Bobby and Mike exchanged glances, and then Bobby spoke tentatively.

"I'd be happy with dance with you, Alex, but…"

He trailed off, looking helplessly at his bandaged hands. Alex smiled warmly at him, knowing full well that his offer was sincere. He _would_ have danced with her, if he could.

"It's okay, Bobby. Mike, on the other hand, doesn't have any excuse."

Mike's eyes went wide, and his mouth opened to utter a protest. Before a sound could escape, though, Alex had slid out of their booth, grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him out onto the floor to join the two couples already dancing.

Bobby watched in amusement, and was so caught up in the sight of Alex effectively leading Mike that he didn't immediately notice that he was no longer alone in the booth.

"Lucky you, you have an excuse."

Bobby looked around in surprise to see that the young man he recognised as being the Torchwood medical examiner had slid into the booth to sit opposite him.

"Sorry?" he asked, mildly confused, and Owen motioned to his hands.

"Them. You have an excuse not to get dragged out there."

"Oh… Well, I would have, if I could. I… I like dancing."

Owen snorted.

"More fool you."

A slight smile curved up the corners of Bobby's mouth as it occurred to him that the bitterness in Owen's voice could easily be attributed to jealousy of his two male colleagues.

"You can't dance."

It wasn't a question. Owen frowned darkly in response.

"I bloody well can. I just choose not to. None of your damn business anyway."

Bobby held up his hands defensively.

"Fine. But you are the one who came over here."

Owen grunted.

"Yeah, I did. So much for male solidarity."

Bobby chuckled and returned his attention to the floor. The song had ended and now all three women were at the jukebox picking a new song, while their partners waited.

* * *

"I don't know any of these," Tosh lamented as she peered at the choices. Gwen looked around, and nudged Alex lightly.

"Go on, pick one. Alex smiled and leaned in closer to look.

"Something to pick up the pace a little," she mused, and then her face lit up. "Perfect! Rogue Traders! This one'll get things moving."

She punched in the right number, and a moment later pounding music filled the air.

"Oh, great," Mike groaned as Alex rejoined him. "Seriously, Alex, are you trying to kill me?"

"No, but I might if you don't keep dancing," she teased him lightly. "I still have my gun on, Logan."

Mike grimaced and did his best to match Alex's moves.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Tosh asked Ianto as he took her hands in his again. "I can get Owen if you're not…"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Really. I'm enjoying this."

Relief filled Toshiko's face, and she allowed Ianto to take the lead once more.

* * *

Jack froze, his stomach dropping right to the floor and his heart clenching painfully in his chest at the sound of the song that filled the air. It was a song he had not heard for over a year in _his_ time, but the memories that he now associated with it were still as fresh as though they had just happened. Dimly, he was aware of Gwen coming back to him and starting to dance, but he just stood there, motionless, as nausea and panic rolled continuously through his stomach in ever increasing waves.

"Jack? Jack, what's wrong…?"

He heard her voice, but it didn't register and, all of a sudden, he was transported to another place, and another time – into a memory that he had desperately tried to escape.

* * *

_He came back to life with a whimper this time, rather than a wild gasp, and was confused and frightened to realise that his chest was still on fire from where he'd been hit by the blast from the Master's laser screwdriver. In fact, it hurt so much that he could barely breathe. There were arms around him, though – comforting arms that held him close. Martha's arms…_

_But her attention was not on him. Rather, she was staring at something else. The Doctor… _

_Jack realised in an instant what was happening, and with that realisation came the horrific understanding that they were not going to win. Before he could think twice about what he was doing, Jack removed his vortex manipulator and pressed it into Martha's hands._

"_Teleport."_

_Martha looked at him, horrified._

"_I can't…"_

"_We can't stop him. Get out of here."_

_She hadn't fled immediately, though. Instead, she'd left him to curl up on the floor in agony while she crawled over to the Doctor's side._

_What followed was a vision that would never be forgotten by himself, the Doctor, Martha and her family. The Master announcing the end of the world, triggering the paradox machine and releasing billions of deadly spheres into the Earth's present through a literal tear in the fabric of space and time, and all to the pounding noise of the pop song Voodoo Child_…

* * *

"Jack?" Gwen cried out in alarm as he stumbled and dropped to his knees, his face the colour of ash and his breath coming in ragged, erratic gasps. All movement came to an abrupt end as Torchwood members and Major Case detectives alike went to Jack's aid. Owen pushed through roughly, crouching down beside his leader.

"Jack, you're hyperventilating, mate. You need to breathe. C'mon, Captain, breathe!"

Owen's voice cut through the shock and the wrenching fear that was induced by his memories, and Jack came back to reality with a strangled gasp. He reached for the nearest body, grabbing hold of broad shoulders in an effort to steady himself, and as his vision slowly cleared, he realised with dismay that it was Bobby whose shoulders he was clinging to.

There was no condemnation or mockery in the detective's eyes, though. There was only sympathy, and an odd sort of understanding.

"Are you okay?" Bobby asked quietly, sincere in his concern. Jack glanced around slowly. They were all looking at him with that same expression, and all of a sudden he couldn't cope.

Sick with guilt over allowing his memories and emotions to overcome him, not only in front of his own team but also in front of three NYPD detectives who he suspected would use any advantage to get the better of Torchwood, Jack staggered to his feet and fled the bar.

* * *

"What the hell was that all about?" Mike growled as Ianto went after Jack. He didn't really expect an answer, and was surprised when Gwen spoke in a strained voice.

"The music. There must be something about this song…"

"He was remembering something," Bobby said abruptly, looking around at each of the three remaining Torchwood members with a piercing stare. "This song triggered a memory in him… and a bad one at that."

Owen frowned as he got to his feet.

"Yes, thankyou, Dr Phil."

"Owen, knock it off," Tosh growled.

He glowered right back at her, but any further arguments were silenced when Ianto walked back in, worry creasing his brow.

"Where's Jack?" Gwen asked anxiously, hoping furiously that Ianto would say he was right outside.

"Gone," Ianto said grimly. "I caught up with him outside, but then he said he needed some time to himself, and he took off. Told us to head back to the hotel and read those files."

"That's just wonderful," Owen snapped. "He takes off and we have to read bloody case files. When he comes back, I'm going to…"

"Do nothing," Ianto cut in swiftly, levelling a distinctly warning look at the other man. For a split second it looked as though Owen was going to argue, but then he changed his mind and, with an unintelligible grunt, he snatched up his jacket and stormed out.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Alex asked, genuinely concerned. "If you need help to find him…"

Ianto favoured her with a warm smile.

"We appreciate the offer, Detective Eames, but I think he'll be fine. He just needs some time alone to sort out his thoughts. No need to concern yourselves. If you'll excuse us now, we'll be heading back to our hotel."

"If you need anything," Bobby said, nodding briefly to Alex, who produced a card from her pocket, "please call us. Anytime."

Ianto smiled again, and politely accepted the car.

"Thankyou, but he'll be fine. He always is. Good night, then."

He, Tosh and Gwen headed out after their recalcitrant colleague. The detectives watched them go in sombre silence, and it was not until the bar door had swung shut that Mike spoke in a quiet, grim tone.

"That had to have been one hell of a bad memory to do that to the guy."

Bobby nodded in agreement.

"I know. I just wonder what was behind it. I think Jack is hiding some very big demons from everyone, including his own team."

"I don't know about that," Alex remarked. "None of them looked especially surprised. I think they had a fair idea what that was all about, even if they didn't know the specifics."

"Let's just hope we can figure him… and the rest of them… out really soon," Mike said tersely as he collected all their jackets and helped Bobby to get his on. "_Before_ someone else gets killed."

* * *

_tbc..._


	10. Startling Revelations

_A/N: And this is purely because I couldn't wait to post this..._

* * *

In an unfamiliar city, and overcome with distress, Jack followed his instinct and made for the first place he could think of that offered him a high vantage point. He slipped through into the Empire State Building, even as people were leaving for the night. Ignoring the elevators, he instead headed for the stairs, taking them at a run.

By the time he reached the top, his leg muscles were threatening to cramp and his lungs were burning, but he relished the brief distraction that the physical discomforts afforded him. Paying no attention to the people who were still milling about, Jack made his way across to a darker, unpopulated corner of the lookout.

It was nowhere near as solitary as he really needed it to be, but with just a little effort he found he was able to block out the voices and sounds of those nearby, until it felt as though he was alone. Once he'd achieved that temporary sense of solitude, Jack reflected on the events of that evening, and cursed his own stupidity and carelessness.

Silently, he berated himself for such a public display of emotion in the club earlier. Disgust filled him at the thought that he had allowed a song… _a stupid song…_to overwhelm him. Although, he conceded with some reluctance, in all fairness to himself, the memories _were_ terrible. He had even witnessed the Doctor himself being brought to a pause by them a couple of times.

It was no excuse, though, and he knew that he was going to have a hard time of it the next time he had to face Bobby Goren and his colleagues. The worst part was the sympathy and understanding that he had seen in Bobby's eyes. The guy had no clue, Jack thought bitterly, and if he thought he'd made some sort of connection, then he was wrong.

Jack drew in a long breath as the burning in his lungs from the long climb up the stairs slowly began to subside. He was grateful that the height of his vantage point put him well clear of the city's pollution. Next time, he mused, he would perhaps head to Liberty Island, and go up inside the Statue of Liberty. That would give him all the solitude he could possibly want, given that it had not yet been reopened to tourists.

"Excuse me, sir. Excuse me, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave. We're closing the observation area for the night."

Jack turned as the voice gradually cut into his consciousness, and was surprised to find that all the people were gone. _How long had he been up there for,_ he wondered. The security guard offered him an apologetic, if slightly nervous smile.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I really need to close the area."

"It's okay," Jack assured him. "Thankyou."

The guard seemed relieved by his compliance, Jack thought bemusedly, and he wondered how many times this man had been forced to confront would-be jumpers.

"Thankyou, sir. I've already locked the doors to stop anyone else coming up, so if you'd just like to wait near the elevators, I'll collect the other gentleman, and I'll take you both down together."

Jack paused, watching as the guard crossed the deck to where a figure stood in a hood and cloak, apparently staring out at the city. The guard called to him a couple of times, only to get no response. With visible frustration, he covered the rest of the distance and closed his hand over the man's shoulder.

"Sir, you have to leave now. I'm sorry, sir, but it's time."

Abruptly, the figure turned.

"Yes," he spoke in a soft, rasping whisper that nevertheless carried clear across to where Jack stood. "It is time."

And then the cloaked, faceless figure was on the guard. At the same instant, all the security cameras within proximity suddenly fizzed and then blew. Jack's own earpiece did the same, buzzing viciously in his ear for a second before going dead. Momentarily ignoring it, though, Jack reacted purely on instinct and adrenalin, ripping his gun from its holster and running forward.

"Stop! Let him go!"

The creature's head came up sharply, and Jack skidded to a halt barely metres away, an ice cold wave of panic crashing down over him as he found himself staring at a pair of all-too-familiar red eyes.

"Handsome Jack," the creature hissed at him. "It's been so long, and I'm so hungry."

Its head dropped again, and Jack was unable to break his paralysis as a grotesque slurping noise broke the otherwise still atmosphere. Jack stood, rooted to the spot, as the memories of his many encounters with the Grysliaak on board the Valiant erupted violently to the surface of his mind. Horror and nausea gripped him as a new, even more terrifying realisation struck.

_It knows me_… _It knows my name_… _It's the same one_…

Slowly, the Grysliaak detached itself from the guard and rose back up, those dull red eyes locking onto Jack with unmistakable intent. The life energy it had drawn from the guard had given it a sloppy sort of half-shape within the folds of its cloak, not quite solid and dripping a mucous-like fluid over its victim.

"Jack… Jacky…"

The voice grated on him like fingernails down a chalkboard, and Jack was backing away even as the creature advanced. He'd retreated all the way to the wall before he remembered that he was not a defenceless prisoner anymore. Summoning all his nerves, he brought the Webley up in a steady aim that belied the very real terror he was feeling.

The Grysliaak slowed to a halt, but any hope Jack had that it might have been intimidated, or even afraid of him, evaporated when it started to laugh.

"Brave Captain Jack," it hissed in between cruel bursts of laughter. "You think that would hurt me? I'm shapeless, Jack. Remember?"

And with that, it threw off the cloak entirely that helped to form its human-shaped shell, to reveal the formless mass of energy and semi-solid goo that it really was.

Jack holstered his Webley with trembling hands, knowing full well that it was useless against this monster. In the end, he did the only thing he could do. He turned and ran.

* * *

The elevator doors slid open, and security guard Norbert Johnson stepped out, his eyes scanning the area in an exaggerated display. His buddy had come up a good ten or fifteen minutes ago to clear the observation deck, and as yet he had not come back. According to the security cameras, there were still two civilians on the deck when he came up. Norbert had watched as he spoke to one, but when he'd gone to get the other, a sudden surge of power had shorted out the cameras.

Norbert stepped out slowly onto the deck, and spotted his buddy a second later, sprawled on his back on the ground. Horrified, he ran to help, but it was obvious from a mere glance that it was too late. He was already long dead.

A sickening mixture of fear and anger rose up in him as he realised that the two men still on the deck had to have killed his buddy. He was just reaching for his radio to call for help when a new sound shattered the quiet.

The sound of screaming, pain-filled and utterly soul-wrenching, reached his ears and very nearly sent him running back to the elevator. Getting hold of himself at the last moment, though, Norbert pulled out his gun with shaking hands, and went to investigate.

* * *

Even as Jack ran, he knew it was pointless. For starters, he was only going in circles, as the only way off the observation deck was via elevator, stairwell, or jumping. The door to the elevators and the stairs, he knew, could only be accessed now with the guard's key card, and to stop and search the dead man for that would only give the Grysliaak the time it needed to catch up to him.

Alternatively, he wasn't quite desperate enough to go jumping off the Empire State Building. He really hadn't packed anywhere near enough ret-con to cover a stunt like that.

He paused just briefly and risked glancing back over his shoulder. The Grysliaak was nowhere in sight, even though he could sense its presence with every fibre of his being. It was the one thing he had in his favour, he mused grimly. For a floating mass of energy, it was actually pretty damned slow. Not that it needed speed on its side, of course. After all, he was effectively trapped, with nowhere to go.

He could sense it coming closer again, and ducked around the next corner. There was absolutely nowhere to hide, and all he could do was to keep moving, and hope for the best. He tried his earpiece almost as an afterthought but, as he'd suspected, it was dead, shorted out. There would be no help forthcoming from his friends… even if they'd had a chance of reaching him in time.

He heard a familiar chime, and realised it was the sound of the elevator, which could only mean a second guard had arrived. Part of him wanted to shout a warning to the unfortunate soul, while another part of him wanted to throw caution to the wind and make a dash for safety.

Jack shut his eyes for a split second, forcibly stomping down on both urges. Panicking would get him nowhere, fast. And it was then, as he was trying to regroup and decide what to do, that he heard the Grysliaak's voice violating the sanctity of his mind.

_Fresh meat_… _Your choice, my Jacky_. _Who will it be; you or him?_

Jack felt sick, thoroughly and utterly sick. Of course, there was no decision to debate. There was no way he could allow another innocent life to be taken… even at the cost of his own suffering. His choice made by grim necessity, Jack steeled himself and stepped out into the open.

He didn't even have a chance to speak before the creature was on him. There was no warning, and he had no chance. In the space of a second, Jack found himself thrown violently to the ground, his head bouncing painfully off the concrete. The blow left him momentarily stunned, and a moment was all the Grysliaak needed to take complete control.

Jack's body arched involuntarily as he felt the all-too-familiar sensation of what equated to the creature's mouth latching onto his throat. It was a god-awful sensation that had him wanting to scream. Then, the sucking began, and with it came the pain.

* * *

Norbert rounded the corner to be confronted with a horrific sight. Nearby, a man lay on the ground, his body rigid with agony and his hands clawing upwards seemingly at nothing, and all the while the most horrendous screams erupted from his lips. At first, he thought the guy was some sort of loon – perhaps having a breakdown of some sort. But then, as he looked harder, he realised how wrong he was.

Above the man, there was something slowly starting to take shape and become visible and solid – something that seemed to have thoroughly attached itself like a leech to the man who lay on the ground. There was a dreadful sucking/slurping noise, like something was being sucked up through a straw, and even as Norbert watched, he fancied that he could almost see the man's life leaving him.

What was truly burned into Norbert's mind, though, was the contorted look of sheer agony on the man's face. His screams shattered the otherwise still night, gradually degenerating into gurgling moans which, in turn, were eventually silenced completely, but it was that look of pure pain that tore into Norbert's very soul.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The monstrous creature was rising up, and turning to face him. For a long, heart-stopping moment, Norbert found himself staring into the eyes of the devil.

He thought he was dead. He really honestly believed that his time was up, and so his confusion was palpable when the creature circled around him, making no attempt to attack.

"A message," the creature hissed, evil red eyes locking with terrified blue ones. "A message for Torchwood." A strange, glutinous appendage that Norbert suspected was an arm stretched out in the direction of the man's lifeless body. "He's mine. I'll be back for him."

And then, inexplicably, it was gone. Slowly, Norbert stumbled over to the body that had been left behind by the creature. He was fairly sure that the sorry son of a bitch was dead, but nor was he going to touch him to find out.

Looking just as sick as he felt, Norbert pulled out his radio and put out a call for the police to come and attend the scene.

* * *

Within minutes, police were swarming the observation deck, and barely fifteen minutes beyond that, Major Case was on the scene. Mike Logan, accompanied by Captain Danny Ross, stepped out of the elevator and into a scene of organised chaos. They were met by ME Rodgers, who was just pulling on a fresh pair of latex gloves.

"Rodgers," Ross greeted her, and she nodded in acknowledgement.

"Two, this time. Your killer is escalating."

"Have you seen the bodies yet?" Mike asked, and she motioned back over her shoulder.

"Only that one, and it's the same as all the others. I haven't been to look at the other victim yet."

Ross nodded as he began to pull on a pair of gloves himself.

"All right. Let's go see."

* * *

"Holy mother of God…"

The exclamation came from Mike, although Ross felt he could safely say that something similar probably would have emerged from his mouth had the detective not beaten him to the punch. He moved forward slowly, note quite sure whether to feel sick or smug, and truly hating himself for even considering the latter option.

The second body, laid out before them like some tragic kind of sacrificial offering, was none other than Captain Jack Harkness himself, still in his heavy military coat, and covered in the same viscous fluid that adorned all the other bodies. He was plainly dead; of that there could be no doubt.

Rodgers crouched down beside the man's body, and pressed her fingers firmly to his throat, checking for any sign of a pulse. There was none, as she'd expected.

"He's still warm," she commented quietly as she peered down at his face. "He hasn't been dead very long at all."

Mike came up to stand beside Ross, observing the scene with increasing agitation.

"I saw him barely a couple of hours ago! We were all in O'Reilly's! Damn it!"

Ross looked across at Mike quizzically.

"I assume I don't need to ask the obvious questions?"

"Bobby and Alex were drinking,' Mike answered, a touch defensively. "I only had soda. And secondly, no. I didn't notice anyone unusual…"

He trailed off, winning a frown from the captain.

"Logan? What is it?"

"Well, something happened while we were all still in the bar. Alex picked a song on the jukebox… can't remember which one now… and Harkness went into a pretty severe panic attack."

"A song triggered a panic attack?" Ross queried sceptically. Mike shrugged.

"Yeah. Bobby seemed to think that it might have triggered a pretty nasty memory in him. Anyway, when he pulled himself together again, he took off from the bar."

"The killer could have been waiting outside," Ross murmured.

"Right," Mike agreed. "Now, the kid on his team, the one in the suit, he followed him out. Maybe he saw something."

Interest filled Ross's face, only to be rapidly followed by frustration as reality set in.

"It doesn't matter. This isn't our case now. We shouldn't even be here."

"And yet, here we are," Mike said dryly. "Captain, they're going to have to accept our help, now. With the latest victim being their captain, it's a huge conflict of interest."

Ross's lips quirked upwards in an involuntary wry smile. Mike was right, of course. When… not if, but _when_… the killer was caught, his or her lawyer would have a field day with the Torchwood team over conflict of interest. He looked back to Jack's lifeless body, and felt that spark of satisfaction dim as he was again reminded that a man was dead, and he had no right to take pleasure in another's suffering.

And then, something struck him about Jack.

"There's something different about him, in comparison to the other victims," he said suddenly, walking over for a closer look. "The other victims looked like they all died peacefully. Even that security guard around the corner…"

"But he looks like he put up a fight," Rodgers concluded as she scanned Jack's body.

Mike joined them, and crouched down beside the body, opposite Rodgers. His sharp eyes took in Jack's face, still lined with the pain that he had died experiencing. He noted Jack's hands, clenched so tightly into fists that blood was visible where his nails had dug into his palms.

"He didn't go easily," Mike agreed, quietly respectful. "He fought it, poor bastard." He stood up again, sighing heavily. "We're going to have to tell his team. Damn, I'm not looking forward to that."

"Well," Ross commented grimly, "at least we won't have to go far to do it."

Mike's eyebrows rose quizzically, and then he heard it. From around the corner, a distinctly British voice was telling someone – probably one of the uniforms on duty – to 'get the hell out of our way, we're Torchwood'.

"C'mon, Logan," Ross said quietly. "Let's go and talk to them."

* * *

The uniforms had finally let the team through, and Owen had led them to the first body when Ross and Mike emerged from around the corner.

"Fine bloody time for Jack to bugger off," Owen was complaining. "Someone remind me to kick his arse later."

Ross approached slowly, eyeing the four of them appraisingly. Gwen spotted him first, and rose up to meet him.

"Captain Ross," she said in polite greeting, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Miss Cooper."

Owen, however, was less concerned with the niceties of manners.

"I thought you lot were off this case," he said flatly, not bothering to look up from the body he was examining.

"We couldn't know it was the same killer until we got here," Ross pointed out, irritated that he had to validate his actions to an arrogant son of a bitch like Owen Harper.

"Fair enough," Owen conceded. "And now that we know it is, you can leave now."

"I don't think so, Dr Harper," Ross replied tersely, having to make a conscious effort not to react to Owen's attitude. "You might find that you need the extra support that we're offering once you've seen the second body."

That got the attention of all of them, and Ianto took a step towards Ross.

"Where is it? I'll take a look." And then, to Owen, Gwen and Tosh, "You all stay here, and keep going."

To Ross's interest, all three of Ianto's colleagues accepted the directive without question. When he hesitated, though, Ianto eyed him in bemusement.

"Are you coming, Captain Ross?"

Ross walked across to join Ianto, wondering how possibly to deliver the news.

"The other body…"

"Isn't getting any fresher," Ianto cut in blithely, and Ross cringed visibly.

"Mr Jones, there is something you need to know before you see the body."

Despite the bruising that was still visible on his face, Ianto still managed to look genuinely amused, as though he was simply humouring the captain.

"And what would that be, Captain Ross?"

For a split second, Ross was sorely tempted to just send Ianto on around the corner, and never mind that the shock might only be adding to the physical trauma he'd already suffered that day. He changed his mind at the last moment, and drew Ianto aside.

"It's Ianto, right?"

Ianto eyed Ross curiously.

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay, Ianto. I'm sorry, but you need to know. The second victim is your captain."

Ianto froze, a multitude of emotions streaming across his face. Shock, disbelief, anger, dismay… But not grief, Ross noted with mild interest. He shrugged off the thought as soon as it occurred to him, though. It was far too early to make a judgement like that.

He found himself having to step swiftly aside to avoid being knocked over as Ianto suddenly rushed past him. Sparing a grim look to the other three members of Torchwood, who so far seemed oblivious to the fact that anything was wrong, he hurried after the young man.

* * *

Ianto moved faster than he should have but, in his rush to get around the corner and see for himself, he ignored the way his aching body protested. Rounding the corner, Ianto came to a momentary halt as his eyes locked onto the sight of Jack's lifeless form.

"No," Ianto whispered hoarsely as he stumbled over. "Jack…"

He fell to his knees, looking over Jack's body in dismay.

Ross stood back with Rodgers, watching with interest to see how Ianto reacted to this tragic development.

Seemingly oblivious to anyone else's presence, Ianto scooped up Jack's hand in his own, ignoring the slimy residue that covered it, and tried unsuccessfully to unlock the fingers from the tight fist that they formed. In the end, he settled for cradling the fisted hand against his cheek.

"Wake up, Jack," Ianto whispered desperately. "C'mon, please, wake up…"

Ross felt his stomach knot up painfully as they listened to Ianto's soft pleas. He hated this part of the job more than any other. Rodgers spared him a glance, and then stepped over to crouch down beside Ianto. With a tenderness that was utterly unlike her, she laid a hand gently on his shoulder while she spoke.

"He died fighting. With any luck, he'll have transferred some evidence from the killer, so we can identify the son of a bitch. He won't have died for nothing, I promise you."

Ianto's head suddenly snapped around, and he stared at her with wide, wild eyes.

"How long has he been dead?"

Rodgers stared blankly at Ianto, thrown by the unexpected question.

"What do you mean…?"

"How long?" Ianto demanded to know, now with a distinct edge to his voice. Rodgers shook her head and went back to her case of supplies.

"I don't know, but I can find out."

Ianto's eyes widened even more as she withdrew a long metal needle-like instrument from the case.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Test the temperature of the liver," she answered. "It won't take long."

"Don't you dare put that thing in him," Ianto snarled, suddenly livid, and Rodgers stared at him incredulously.

"Excuse me? This is my job, and I'm damn well going to do it!"

"This is our case," Ianto snapped, "and Torchwood has jurisdiction here!"

"I don't care who you are," Rodgers shot back. "I have a job to do, and I am going to do it!"

She started towards Jack again, and Ianto finally snapped out of his paralysis. Twisting around, he unlatched the holster on Jack's belt and in one smooth move he slid the Webley out and swung it around to aim it directly at Rodgers. She froze in shock, sensing very strongly that he would, indeed, go ahead and shoot if she tried to advance. To the side, she was aware that both Ross had drawn his own gun, increasing the sudden tension tenfold. Then, before she or Ross had a chance to speak, Ianto shouted out loud.

"Owen!" he bellowed as loudly as his injured ribs would allow him to. "Owen, get over here, now! Gwen! Tosh!"

Rodgers couldn't conceal the frustration on her face as Owen rounded the corner at a run, with Gwen and Tosh right behind him. Mike was hot on their heels, skidding to a halt at Ross's side.

"All right, what the hell are you yelling about?" Owen snapped, only to do a double-take in shock at the sight that met them.

"Fuck!" he exploded, and bolted across the concrete to where Jack's body lay. Gwen and Tosh followed, and Gwen reached out cautiously to take the gun from Ianto.

"Easy, Ianto," she murmured, rubbing his back gently as she eased the gun from his grasp. Then, and only then, were Ross and Mike finally able to relax their grips on their own weapons. Owen, meanwhile, was anxiously examining Jack's pallid, lifeless features before looking back up at Ianto.

"How long?"

Ianto shook his head.

"I don't know." He inclined his head back towards Rodgers and spoke in a terse and bitter voice. "She was just going to stick that thing into his liver."

Owen looked from Rodgers to the unpleasant-looking device, and then back to Rodgers again.

"The hell you are! Get that fucking thing away from him!"

Rodgers bristled visibly. She was beyond fed up with this lot.

"It's the only way to gauge how long he's been dead for! We need to know to judge how long ago the killer was here!"

Owen glowered at her, not backing down one bit.

"That's all well and good, but he's not dead!"

Silence descended at that statement, and Rodgers stared incredulously at him, as though she was suddenly uncertain of Owen's sanity.

"I beg to differ. He has no vital signs, and rigor mortis is beginning to set in. He is most certainly dead!"

"And I'm telling you that he's not!" Owen bellowed back.

"Owen," Gwen said tensely as she stood behind him. Owen nodded in wordless acknowledgement. He knew he had to put an end to this argument and get rid of the ME, the captain and the detective before Jack reanimated right in front of them.

"Look, sweetheart, what it comes down to is this. It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not. This case is our responsibility, and I'm telling you to get lost, _now_." He looked up at Ross and Mike. "_All_ of you."

For long seconds, no one moved or spoke. Then, abruptly, Rodgers unseated herself from beside Jack's body, and stormed away. Ross paused long enough to glare furiously at the Torchwood team before he followed her around the corner. Mike lingered for a moment longer, eyeing them with a look that was akin to sympathy.

"You're going to regret that," he said quietly, his focus on Owen. "I guarantee it."

Owen looked back at him impatiently.

"Whatever. You too, Detective. Get lost."

Shaking his head with grim humour, Mike turned and stalked away to go and join his captain.

"You realise that you're never going to get back into that woman's morgue?" Ianto asked dryly.

"Me?" Owen retorted. "I'm not the one who was holding the gun on her, mate. Anyway, I don't really give a fuck right now." He reached over and pressed the palm of his hand to Jack's cheek. "Getting colder. Damn it, he should've woken up by now! I thought this whole coming back to life thing was only supposed to take a few minutes?"

"Normally," Gwen agreed, "but think back to Abaddon."

"He was dead for nearly a week, remember?" Tosh reminded them all. Owen looked around at his companions.

"And since it took Gwen kissing him to wake him up then, would someone like to volunteer to give it a try this time? Ianto? How about it, Prince Charming? Care to try the kiss of life on Sleeping Beauty?"

Ianto spared Owen an exasperated, if slightly amused look.

"No need to mock. I'll give it a go."

Owen smirked and leant back in to give Ianto room. He was just leaning in when Jack came back to life with a strangled gasp. He jerked upwards reflexively, causing his and Ianto's heads to clash with an ugly cracking sound.

Simultaneous groans of pain filled the air, accompanied by visible winces of sympathy pain from Owen, Gwen and Tosh. Jack groaned again, and coughed painfully as he brought one hand unsteadily to his forehead.

"Ow… my head…"

Ianto pulled back slowly, rubbing gingerly at his own head.

"So much for the kiss of life," Gwen remarked ruefully.

"What the hell were you trying to do?" Jack grumbled as he slowly pushed himself up with Owen's help.

"Never mind," Ianto muttered, and threw a threatening look at the others to warn them off saying anything.

"Jack, you've been dead for over half an hour," Gwen told him anxiously. "We didn't know what to do!"

"Yeah," Owen agreed. "And believe me, it was bad enough trying to frighten off the local coppers in first place. It's going to be even worse having to deal with them when you walk out of here. Their ME is pretty damned certain that you're stone cold dead."

Jack sat there, half-sitting up, as his mind went back over the events of that night, and his breath caught.

"Jack?" Tosh asked softly. "Was it the Grysliaak?"

He looked first at her, and then to the others, pale and visibly shaken. When he answered, it was in barely a whisper.

"Yes."

"And now it's going to realise pretty soon that you're an endless supply of food," Owen concluded grimly. "Fucking brilliant."

"It already knew," Jack said in a bitter whisper.

"What do you mean?" Gwen wondered. "How could it already know?"

"Because I've encountered it before," Jack told them. His voice was slowly regaining its strength, but all of them heard the tremulous waver as he explained to them what he knew. "It's not just any Grysliaak we're dealing with. It's _the_ Grysliaak. It's the same damned one that was on the Valiant."

Silence met Jack's words.

"But…" Tosh started to say finally, "how…? If time reversed itself, then how could it know? How could it remember?"

"There's only one way," Jack answered bitterly. "It must have still been somewhere on the Valiant when the paradox machine was destroyed."

"Fuck," Owen whispered, and Jack eyed him critically as he sat up all the way.

"We really need to talk about your language."

Owen snorted and didn't bother to reply to that. Shaking his head, Jack's attention then went to the goo that his body was coated in, and he grimaced in disgust.

"Ugh. I'd forgotten about this part."

"What is that stuff?" Tosh wondered.

"A Grysliaak's body fluid," Jack explained. "A Grysliaak normally isn't a corporeal being. Most of the time, it exists only as a mass of living energy. When it feeds, though, it solidifies and begins to take the shape of the species that it's feeding off of. Not completely, but some… Normally it can't get enough energy to complete the shape change. This gunk is like a waste product." Owen opened his mouth to speak, but Jack's glare effectively silenced him. "Don't you dare, Owen. I don't need to hear it. Just… help me up. I need to get back to the hotel and have a really long shower."

"We still have a problem with those cops," Gwen pointed out as she and Owen hauled their temporarily weakened and somewhat sluggish leader to his feet.

"Did any of them get a chance to examine me beyond checking for a pulse?" Jack asked, leaning heavily on Owen for support. He was quickly realising how much he'd underestimated how ready he was to move under his own steam. He felt like he was going to throw up and the smell permeating his nostrils from the goo he was covered in wasn't helping. To Owen's credit, though, he made no complaints about suddenly finding himself almost completely supporting the semi-dead weight of his captain.

"The ME was pretty certain about your lack of vital signs," Owen answered wryly, and Jack emitted a noiseless sigh.

"She'll have to be ret-conned. Anyone else?"

"I don't think so," Ianto mused. "Unless, of course, you count Captain Ross and Detective Logan, but they may be more easily convinced that you weren't really dead at all."

Jack hesitated, worry creasing his brow.

"Is Bobby here?"

"That big cop?" Owen asked. "No, he's not. And since when have you been on a first name basis with him?"

A brief glance at Ianto told Jack that the Welshman was wondering much the same thing.

"Know your enemy," Jack murmured, and for a brief moment his expression became distant, as though he was remembering something. Then, it was gone and he spoke with a lopsided shrug. "He wouldn't be so easily convinced, and I don't want to have to ret-con him until we're ready to leave."

They didn't question him, even though they all suspected he wasn't being entirely truthful. Instead, Owen tightened his grip around Jack's waist, feeling him waver slightly.

"Okay, let's get you out of here before you collapse. Oh, and anyone care to put ten quid on who has a heart attack first? I reckon it'll be Captain Ross."

"Never mind him," Ianto retorted. "We're going to send the ME into a complete meltdown."

Owen grinned wickedly.

"I'd pay ten quid to see that."

* * *

"They're out of their damned minds, the whole lot of them!" Rodgers ranted while a bemused Captain Ross and Mike Logan looked on. "The man is dead! He's dead! He has no pulse, and no vital signs! He's dead, end of argument!"

"Please, Rodgers, calm down," Ross begged her. "You know he's dead, we know, and I think they know, too, but the reality is that they've just lost their captain. They're in denial… and in shock. Just give them a chance for it to sink in."

Rodgers, however, was far too worked up to be willing to even make an attempt at being understanding.

"This is the end of the cooperation, Captain Ross. I don't care what trouble it causes, because the only one of that mob who knew how to treat his peers is currently lying dead just around that corner."

Ross was just trying to decide what he could possibly say to placate her when Mike spoke softly.

"Captain, you don't have a heart condition, do you?"

Ross stared back at him incredulously.

"No, Logan, I do not, not unless you count the one that you and Goren have given me over the last twelve months. Why?"

Mike hesitated, and then lifted one hand to motion slowly to a point beyond them. Ross and Rodgers both turned at the same time to see what had Mike's attention.

"What in the name of God…?" Ross whispered, the shock so great that it stole the very air from his lungs. Rodgers made no sound at all, and could only stand there and stare in speechless shock.

Coming around the corner, supported carefully between Owen Harper and Gwen Cooper, was Captain Jack Harkness – on his feet and very much alive. He was the colour of ash, and seemed to be struggling to stay upright, but he _was_ alive.

They guided him along slowly, ignoring the gaping cops around them, clearly intent on getting their captain out of there. Ross hesitated, and then went to intercept them, reasonably confident that Jack was in no fit state to punch him again.

"You…" he said hoarsely, unable to hide his confusion. "How…? Damn it, you were dead!"

Jack's eyebrows went up slightly at the captain's exclamation.

"Do I look like I'm dead? And if I was dead, how could I be standing here like this, talking you? Really, Captain Ross, you're starting to sound like you could use some time off."

Beside him, Gwen barely covered a snort of laughter, and he had to make an effort not to frown at her. Ross, for his part, was not buying the line that Jack was pushing.

"You were dead," he said softly. "For over half an hour, you _were_ dead. Rodgers wasn't wrong about that. No one can be revived after being dead for that long, not without some sort of permanent damage. And they sure as hell wouldn't be walking around like this."

"And yet here I am," Jack answered back softly, "alive, on my feet and fully functioning. What explanation do you have for it, Captain? I'd love to hear your theory."

But Ross had no explanation to offer. Finally, Ianto stepped forward and more or less nudged Ross out of their way.

"Excuse us, Captain Ross. We'd like to get Jack back to our hotel, so he can clean up and recover from the attack."

"Hey!" Mike burst out suddenly, striding forward. "Wait just a goddamn minute! If you take him anywhere, it should be to a hospital. You could be carrying evidence."

Owen snorted softly.

"He makes it sound like you could be diseased."

"Our case, remember?" Ianto reminded Mike in a low voice. "We'll deal with it. It's not your concern any longer."

They made their way past Ross and Mike, and were almost to the exit when a new voice spoke up, sounding one step shy of hysterical.

"You're alive! My god, you're really alive… I thought you were dead! I thought it killed you!"

Jack halted, forcing Owen and Gwen to stop as well, just as a man in a security guard's uniform stumbled over.

"Guess I'm just stubborn," he said, managing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The guard looked from Jack to the others, his eyes wide with terror.

"I s… saw it… I saw… it…"

Jack glanced to Ianto and gave a slight nod. Ianto withdrew a single pill from within his jacket.

"Take this, sir. It'll calm you down."

The man took the pill from Ianto, but spoke again anxiously.

"I saw it! It spoke to me! It said it had a message… for Torchwood… Are you Torchwood?"

Jack froze, and then pulled away a little from Owen and Gwen, his attention suddenly and completely on the guard.

"What did it tell you?" he asked tensely. "Tell me what it said."

Norbert stared wide-eyed at Jack for long seconds before finally answering.

"It… It said, he's mine. I'll be back for him. It was talking about _you_."

Nausea filled Jack's gut anew as more puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

"Take the pill," he told Norbert softly. "You'll feel a lot better once you do."

Norbert put the pill numbly into his mouth, and Jack looked around until his gaze found Ross and Mike.

"Make sure he gets home safely."

"What the hell did you just give him?" Ross demanded to know, but Jack gave a slow shake of his head.

"Not your concern. Just get him home safely… please."

"But will he be safe?" Mike pressed, following them as they made their way through to the elevators. "Is the killer likely to come back for him?"

Jack drew in a shuddering breath as they entered the elevator, and answered just as the doors slid closed, separating them from the NYPD.

"No. It doesn't need to now."

* * *

As soon as they were out of sight of all the NYPD officers, Jack's strength finally gave out. His knees buckled, and he would have fallen if it hadn't been for Owen and Gwen on either side of him.

"Your turn to rest, mate," Owen muttered as he pulled Jack back up. "Maybe now I'll be able to get Ianto back into bed at the same time."

Jack opened his mouth to speak, only to have Owen cut him off sharply.

"Don't say it. I don't want to hear it."

* * *

By the time the elevator doors slid open again, Jack had managed to gather what strength he had left and, with minimal help, made it to the SUV. It was only once he was safely concealed within the vehicle that he was finally able to let go. With a shudder, he slumped back into the seat and his eyes slid closed, the adrenaline and strength bleeding entirely from his body.

Dimly, he was aware of two people climbing in on either side of him. Warm hands brushed against his temple and gently drew him down sideways to rest his head on a broad, comfortable shoulder. Ianto's shoulder, he thought with a soft, relieved sigh.

He thought he could hear someone speaking his name, but he had nothing left with which to respond. His eyes slid closed as exhaustion overcame him, and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Jack?" Gwen asked softly, but Ianto shook his head.

"He's out. That thing took a lot out of him."

Tosh twisted around in the front passenger seat to peer at Jack's sleeping form with a tearful look of wonder.

"I don't know that I'll ever get used to him being immortal."

"I'm thankful for it," Ianto said quietly as he cradled Jack awkwardly, "especially in light of incidents such as what happened to him tonight. We never need to fear losing him to death."

"All right," Owen interrupted with a hint of impatience, "enough of the sentimentality. Start thinking about how we're going to get him back up to our suite without drawing too much attention to ourselves."

Ianto looked down at the man who was currently sleeping on his shoulder.

"With a great deal of difficulty, I imagine."

* * *

As it turned out, they were in luck. Upon arriving at the hotel and driving into the underground garage, they had a clear run all the way to their suite. The only contact they had was with one of the night porters, who winked knowingly when Ianto made a discreet hand gesture to indicate that Jack had simply had too much to drink.

"He'll kill you for that," Gwen remarked once they were safely inside their suite.

"Would you rather I'd said he'd just been attacked?" Ianto retorted. "I don't think so. Now, help me get him to my room."

"Ianto…" Owen started to protest, but Ianto cut him off short.

"Will you give your filthy mind a rest for just five minutes? Unlike yourself, every other thought that goes through my mind is not about sex. The only reason I'm saying take him to my room is because unlike Jack's, my room's ensuite is equipped with a bathtub. I need to bathe him first, and try to get all of this… this slime off him. After all, I hardly think he'd like to wake up to find himself still covered in it."

"Right," Owen muttered. "Hadn't thought of that. You'd better be able to wake him up, though, because we're not going to help you put him in the bath. As much as we love him, seeing the man naked is something we can all just do without."

Ianto nodded in placid agreement, but it was with great interest and amusement that he noted neither Gwen nor Tosh vocally expressed agreement with the young medic's assertion.

* * *

_tbc..._


	11. Late Night Conversations

_Bobby Goren's apartment_

Alex Eames awoke with start to the sound of persistent knocking on the front door of Bobby's apartment. Groaning softly, she roused herself from where she'd been attempting to sleep on Bobby's less than comfortable sofa, and padded across to the door. A quick check through the peephole confirmed what she already suspected, and she opened the door to a white-faced Mike Logan.

"What…" she started to ask, but he pushed past her and headed straight for the kitchen without saying a word. Tired and increasingly aggravated, Alex locked the door again and went after him. She walked into the kitchen to discover Mike was taking a half-full bottle of Scotch from its hiding place at the back of a kitchen cabinet and, as she watched, he poured himself the equivalent of a double shot and downed it in one long swallow.

"Mike, what the hell are you trying to do? Knock yourself out?" she demanded as he doubled over, gasping as the alcohol hit his system hard.

"I'd like to," he rasped. "I really would, Alex. After what I saw tonight, I would _love_ for that to happen. Then I could tell myself it was just a bad fucking dream, and I'm not really going out of my fucking mind."

She stared at him, shocked. When he finally returned her gaze, she was frightened to see a very real desperation in his eyes.

"Mike, what happened?"

"Wake Bobby up first."

"I can't! Do you know how long it took to get him to go to sleep after you left? His hands were killing him!"

He leaned in close, his eyes wild and frightening.

"Wake him up, Eames. Now. He needs to hear this, particularly after that alien shit he was going on about earlier."

Something in his tone warned her against arguing further, and she went to do as he'd asked. Mike poured himself another glass of Scotch and wandered back through to sink into one of the two armchairs in Bobby's living room. Minutes later, Bobby emerged from his bedroom with Alex, looking a little bleary-eyed but full of concern for his friend.

"Mike? What's wrong?"

"Sit down," he told them. When neither Bobby nor Alex sat, Mike motioned agitatedly to the sofa. "Sit your asses down. Trust me. You're going to want to be sitting down for this."

Exchanging glances, they sat and waited for Mike to explain himself.

"I got a call-out," he told him hoarsely. "Ross would have called you guys, but he didn't want to put it on you, Bobby, with your hands like they are. So he called me, told me to meet him at the Empire State Building, that there'd been a body found."

Bobby stiffened.

"Was it our killer?"

"Shut up and let me talk," Mike snapped. "I'm getting to that. Okay… So I get there, and Ross and I head up to the observation deck. There's one of the security guards up there and yes, it's our killer. Same MO, same everything. The difference is that this time, there's a second body. The killer took two victims this time."

"He's escalating," Alex whispered. "We were afraid of this."

"I said shut up and let me finish," Mike growled, his voice starting to sound fractionally hysterical. He paused, taking a mouthful of Scotch and allowing the burning liquid to soothe his nerves.

"Mike, Ross'll have your ass in a sling if he knows you're drinking hard liquor while you're on duty," Bobby pointed out softly. Mike, however, shook his head.

"No, he won't. He took me off-duty. Took himself off-duty, too, as a matter of fact. Told me to get myself somewhere safe, and then have a strong drink or three. Said he was going home to do exactly the same."

"Two bodies," Alex said, trying to cover her sudden bout of nerves. "You said there were two victims this time."

Mike nodded.

"First one was the security guard. Second one was Captain Jack Harkness himself."

Stunned silence met the revelation.

"Jack… is dead…?" Bobby asked finally in shock and dismay. Mike uttered a strangled laugh.

"I'm getting to that. Will you shut the fuck up and let me talk?"

Again, Bobby and Alex exchanged glances. Mike was one step away from a break-down. Whatever had happened that night, it was major. The Irish detective went on in an increasingly strained voice.

"Rodgers was there. She checked his vitals, and nothing. No heartbeat, nada. Then Torchwood arrived. They were just showing up in response to the call-out. Sons of bitches must have access to the police scanner. Anyway, they rocked up, and Ross and I went to talk to them… You know, to tell them. Ross took that young guy… the one in the suit…"

"Ianto," Bobby murmured.

"Right, him. Ross took him around and I stayed with the rest of them. I don't know what happened, or what was said, but then Ianto starts screaming for the rest of his buddies. When we got around there, the stupid kid was holding a gun on Rodgers…"

"What?" Alex burst out. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine. More pissed off than scared. Although, I can't say the kid wouldn't have pulled the trigger. Looking at his face, I think he might have. And it was all because she was going to take Harkness's liver temperature… You know, to determine time of death. Anyway, then the rest of them got in on the act. The doctor, he told all of us to get lost none too politely. In the end, we did."

"Okay, so they've just lost their captain," Bobby murmured. "They must have been in shock…"

Mike looked up at Bobby through reddening eyes.

"He's not dead."

Again, silence met Mike's words. Then, slowly, Bobby leaned forward.

"What?"

"I said, he's not dead. Jack Harkness is not dead."

"He survived?" Alex asked in astonishment.

"No, he didn't," Mike replied, and by this time Bobby and Alex were starting to look increasingly agitated and confused.

"Mike, will you just come out and say what you mean?" Alex demanded. "First you say Harkness is dead, and then you say he isn't, and now you say he is. Will you make up your mind?"

Bobby, however, had already realised what Mike was trying to say.

"He was dead… but he came back to life."

"What… so, you're saying they managed to revive him?" Alex asked with a deep frown.

"I don't know," Mike admitted heavily. "I… just don't know."

"That had to be it," Alex muttered, but Mike shook his head.

"He was dead for at least half an hour by the time that they got there. Add another fifteen minutes… Alex, the guy was dead for at least forty-five minutes, maybe longer. He was _dead_! I'm not imagining that!"

"I believe you, Mike," Bobby said softly, ignoring the sharp look he got from his partner. Mike, for his part, looked suitably sceptical.

"Sure you do."

"I do," Bobby insisted. "But we're not doing anything about it now. Right now, we're all going to try and get some sleep and then, first thing in the morning we'll work out how we're going to deal with this."

Mike stared at Bobby with a mixture of relief and befuddlement.

"And _not_ lose our minds in the process?"

Bobby laughed softly, voicing a humour that he didn't really feel.

"I hope not."

* * *

Jack awoke with a start, the distinct and acrid scent of smelling salts burning in his nostrils. His eyes opened and he looked around slowly, through a haze of blurriness that he could not control.

"Easy, Jack. Try to relax."

That was Ianto, Jack realised numbly. He shifted a little, and finally managed to focus on Ianto's face, as it hovered above his own with an adorable expression of concern.

"I need you to wake up, Jack. I can't get you clean while you're unconscious. C'mon, snap out of it."

With some effort, Jack roused himself and forced his mind back into awareness. Ianto slipped an arm beneath his shoulders, and helped him to sit up, smiling affectionately as he did so.

"How are you feeling, then?"

"Like I got the life sucked out of me," Jack answered in a dazed mumble.

"I've run a bath for you," Ianto told him. "Let's get these clothes off you, so we can get you clean."

It was a testament to how bad Jack was really feeling, Ianto mused, that he never responded to that golden opportunity with a lewd comment.

Minutes later, Jack was sinking into blessedly warm water with a relieved sigh, while Ianto sat gingerly on the edge of the tub and proceeded to gently soap his upper body.

"Do you think it was waiting for you when you left the bar?" Ianto asked quietly after a while.

"I didn't notice it if it was," he answered. Ianto was silent for a while before speaking again.

"Was it as bad as you remembered it being?"

"I think it was worse," Jack answered bitterly. He didn't elaborate, and Ianto decided not to pressure him for details. Instead, he turned his attention to washing the slimy residue from Jack's hair. He guessed the captain was feeling even worse than he looked. Under any other circumstance, lewd suggestions would have been free-flowing from his lips by then.

"How are you really feeling, then?" he asked finally. Jack paused in replying, and Ianto was unsure whether it was a reluctance to answer at all, or whether he simply didn't know what to say.

"I don't know how to deal with this thing, Ianto," Jack admitted, sounding all of a sudden like a lost little boy. "I don't know how to stop it. And now, it's focused on me… Everyone around me is in danger now."

"Don't even think about trying to go this one alone, Jack," Ianto warned him quietly. "We're a team. Whatever we do, we do it together."

Jack didn't respond, but instead reached for a bar of soap. His hand was trembling, though, and the soap slipped through his grip.

"Just try and relax," Ianto admonished him lightly. "It's not going to hurt to let me take care of you for once."

Jack sighed as he peered up at Ianto.

"You were mauled by a weevil only this morning."

"And you had the life drained from your body not two hours ago," Ianto countered. "You took care of me all day, Jack. Now let me return the favour."

Jack sighed again and sank down further into the water.

"Where are the others?"

"In the living area. Tosh is searching the Torchwood files for anything related to Grysliaaks. Gwen is looking through the victims' files, and Owen is looking at medical reports. It's under control, Jack."

"Appreciated, but you can tell Gwen to stop, for starters. There are no links between the victims that might lead us to the Grysliaak, and if it kills anyone else, it'll be doing it to lure me out."

"No," Ianto replied quietly, and Jack's heart skipped just slightly. The last time Ianto had spoken that word to him, in _that_ tone, had been right before they'd fully opened the rift, and unleashed the monster Abaddon on Cardiff. He looked up at Ianto slowly, as though he was not quite certain what he might find there.

"What?"

"I said no. I won't tell her to stop. Not unless you have something significant for her to do instead. Do you?" When Jack didn't answer, Ianto nodded sagely. "I didn't think so."

Jack's shoulder slumped in defeat.

"Okay," he conceded. "But I think it's pretty obvious what we have to do to bring this thing out into the open, and profiling the victims isn't going to do it. What we still have to figure out is how to kill it…"

He trailed off, suddenly conscious that Ianto's fingers had suddenly ceased the soothing massaging motion in his hair. Looking up, his gut knotted painfully at the hurt and angry look on the younger man's face.

"Ianto…"

Abruptly, Ianto stood up, and turned away.

"I think that does it, sir. If you care to get yourself out of the bath, I'll prepare the bed for you."

"Ianto, wait…" Jack called out, but Ianto had already disappeared through into the bedroom. Groaning softly and muttering to himself about temperamental Welshmen, Jack slowly eased himself up out of the water.

His strength was coming back, but not quickly enough for his liking. As he stepped out of the bath his knees buckled and, in the process of trying to save himself from falling, he slipped and went down with a jarring thud. His head cracked on the edge of the bath as he fell, drawing an involuntary cry of pain from him and leaving him seeing stars.

Jack lay on the floor in a semi-conscious daze for an indeterminable amount of time before a voice cut through the haze, and he felt strong hands trying to move him.

"Bloody hell, Ianto, I thought you said you'd look after him!"

The silence from Ianto was painfully telling.

In the next minute, he was lifted up off the floor and a thick, warm bath robe was slipped over his shoulders and wrapped firmly around his body. From there, he was guided through and into the waiting bed.

"All right, Teaboy," Owen said shortly. "Make yourself useful. Go and get some ice, before this swells up to the size of a football."

"He's mad at me," Jack mumbled, wincing and making a half-hearted effort to pull away as Owen examined the spot where he'd struck his head.

"Really?" Owen retorted. "I hadn't noticed. Will you hold still? Bloody hell, Jack, you're worse than my dad."

"It hurts," Jack grumbled, and promptly cringed at how childish that sounded. Owen raised an eyebrow at him incredulously.

"What are you, five? So, are you going to tell me what you did to piss him off this time?"

Jack didn't have a chance to answer. Ianto had just walked back in with the requested ice pack, and he spoke frostily.

"He's planning to offer himself as bait to catch the Grysliaak."

Owen stared first at Ianto, and then at Jack.

"That's a little bit on the stupid side, isn't it? I mean, seriously…"

Jack looked sourly at the two of them.

"If either of you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it."

"Surely there must be a better way than offering you up like the proverbial sacrificial lamb," Owen argued. "C'mon, Jack…"

"Do you think I want to?" Jack asked in a strained voice. "Do you really believe that I want to put myself at risk like that?"

"I think that you can't help yourself," Ianto said soberly. "I think that you're so consumed with the idea that this world… that _we_ are your responsibility, that you can't see what's right in front of your own face. You're so busy trying to hide yourself from us that you don't realise that you're completely transparent."

Jack's expression was stony in the wake of Ianto's stinging critique.

"What do you want me to do?' he asked finally, tersely.

"For starters," Owen said as he held the ice pack to Jack's temple, "you can quit acting like a one man army. We're going to sit down together… all of us… and work out what we're going to do. You're not making any decisions without us, so don't even try. We've got enough on our plate with those bloody cops, without you going renegade on us."

Slowly, the anger and rebellion drained from his body, and Jack slumped back against the pillows, defeated.

"Fine," he grumbled, suddenly too weary to argue anymore.

"So, is it safe to leave you too alone now?" Owen queried sceptically, but Ianto nodded.

"It's okay. We're fine."

"All right, then," Owen muttered. "Do me a favour, and do yourselves one at the same time. Try and get some sleep, and tomorrow morning we'll work out a plan of action."

Jack watched him go bemusedly.

"Now there's the guy that I recruited," he murmured with affection. A moment later, he yelped as Ianto removed the icepack and carefully applied antiseptic to his temple, where the skin had split open after he'd fallen.

"Stop it," Ianto murmured, slapping away Jack's hand when he tried to reach up to stop him. "You know I need to do this. You might be immortal, but you can still pick up infections."

With visible annoyance, Jack surrendered himself to Ianto's ministrations.

"Do you really see me that way?" Jack asked finally, tentatively.

Ianto didn't bother to pretend that he didn't know what Jack was talking about, and he responded quietly.

"In your defence," he answered, "I don't believe that you do it deliberately."

"But that's still how you see me, as some gung-ho leader looking for a hero moment in every situation."

Ianto paused, taking a moment to consider his next words before speaking.

"I think that you believe that you have to do it all on your own, when the truth is that you don't. You don't need to be alone at all, unless you choose to be. Do you choose to be, Jack?"

Jack thought about that for a long minute before answering quietly.

"No, I don't want to be alone," he admitted. "But sometimes, it's the way it has to be."

"Why?" Ianto asked, frustrated.

"Because," Jack replied soberly, "I can't die, but you can."

He shut his eyes as Ianto's fingers threaded through his hair and half braced himself for those fingers to tighten abruptly into a pain-inducing fist, but it didn't happen. To his relief and gratitude, Ianto instead began to gently massage his head in an effort to get him to relax.

"We can look after ourselves, Jack. You don't always need to feel as though you have to protect us, especially at the cost of your own life."

"Just… won't lose you… again…"

Ianto had no chance to ask what Jack meant by that, as the captain finally gave in to his exhaustion and fell asleep. He sat there on the edge of the bed for nearly twenty minutes, just watching Jack sleep, before getting up and quietly leaving the room.

* * *

"Is he all right?" Gwen asked as Ianto joined them, sitting down gingerly in one of the dining chairs.

"Physically, he'll be fine," Ianto assured her. "Emotionally, that's another story."

"How do you mean?" Tosh wondered with a slight frown. Ianto looked around at each of them before his gaze came to rest on Owen.

"Just before he fell asleep, Jack said something to me. He said he wouldn't lose me again. What did he mean?"

Owen raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"Why are you asking me? How should I know? You're the one he tells all his deepest secrets to. Well, aside from the whole immortality thing, which he told Gwen about…"

"Eh, not a fair comparison, Owen," Gwen growled. "He would never have told me that, except that he came back to life right in front of me."

"All the same," Ianto murmured, "I think perhaps you do know, Owen, and the fact that you don't seem to be able to look me in the eye only confirms my suspicions."

Owen uttered a frustrated growl.

"All right, fine. During that… that year that wasn't, as he calls it, he said the Master found out about you, and how much you mean to Jack… and he used you against Jack."

"Used me? How do you mean?" Ianto asked with a frown. Owen groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face in irritation.

"Bloody hell. He killed you, Ianto. Jack said the Master had you tortured and killed right in front of him. _That's_ what Jack meant."

A soft sigh escaped Ianto's lips as more pieces of the puzzle dropped into place.

"I should have guessed, from the way he reacted to me when he came home. All right, then. We need to help him overcome this dear he has of losing us."

"Are you out of _your_ mind?" Owen asked him incredulously. "In case it slipped your attention, Ianto, we don't exactly work in a risk-free environment. Any one of us could meet our maker at any time. You can't kid yourself that we won't!"

"Well, then, what do you suggest we do?" Ianto asked tersely. "Because we need to do something, or Jack is going to go ahead and used himself as bait."

"Is that really such a bad idea…?" Owen mused, only to find himself the focus of three angry glares. "Okay," he muttered, holding up his hands defensively. "It was just a thought." He paused, then, eyeing Ianto critically. "What's this really about, anyway? Jack being afraid of losing you, or you being afraid of losing him?"

Ianto blanched visibly, and stood up. Without a word, he stalked away to his room, where Jack was currently sleeping, and vanished inside.

"Now what was _that_ all about?" Gwen demanded to know.

"Jack and Ianto are still trying to work out where they stand with each other," Owen answered quietly, displaying an uncharacteristic insight. "I swear, though, it's like watching a couple of hormonal teenagers. Every little emotion is bloody exaggerated."

"Oh, come off it, Owen," Gwen growled. "They're in love! Why can't you just leave them alone?"

He leaned forward, focusing a hard glare at her.

"Because, Gwen, we are currently in a strange city, chasing after a monster that has Jack squarely in its sights. We can't afford to have the two of them constantly at each others' throats!"

"Well, what do we do?" Tosh wondered. "I mean, maybe using Jack as bait is the only way to flush this thing out."

"Tosh!" Gwen cried out in horror.

"I didn't say I liked it!" Tosh argued. "But what else can we do? There are only five of us! And this is more than we know how to deal with!"

"I think," Owen decided grimly, "that it's time we swallowed our pride and ask for help."

Momentary silence met his statement, and Gwen and Tosh exchanged puzzled looks.

"Help?" Tosh echoed finally. "Help from who?"

"Who do you think?" Owen growled impatiently. "The bloody NYPD! Who else?"

"Okay," Gwen said finally. "Now you're out of _your_ mind."

Owen snorted derisively.

"Well, that makes three of us, at least. Seriously, we need back-up on this, and last I checked UNIT had sodded off to the friggin' Alps for a training camp, or something."

"But the police…?" Tosh argued weakly. Owen nodded firmly.

"Look, Jack said it himself. These detectives are smart. They might be able to deal with it… or, at least until we've caught and killed the fucker, and then we can ret-con the lot of them and piss off back home."

Gwen and Tosh again exchanged glances, neither one quite ready to concede that Owen was, in fact, making a great deal of sense.

"When Jack wakes up," Gwen said finally, with some reservation, "we'll talk about it then."

"Fine," Owen said, standing up and stretching. "In the morning, then. But I bet I know what he's going to say."

Gwen rolled her eyes as he disappeared into his own room.

"Yes, so do I, and I don't think you're going to like it one bit."

* * *

The Grysliaak had not gone far after passing on its message for Jack and his little gang. In fact, it was practically within spitting distance when first the police and then the rest of Torchwood arrived.

It had watched the ensuing events with delight, and had barely been able to contain its excitement as it watched Jack come back to life. Indeed, it had taken a lot of restraint not to pounce on the man again, and help itself to his renewed life force.

Sweet… He had tasted so sweet and so much richer than the feeble mortals whose life forces it had taken previously. And where most humans barely had enough to whet its appetite, Jack's life force was an abundance that it could truly glut itself on, again and again.

It wanted him. More than anything, it wanted to have Jack where it could feed off him whenever it wanted to – an unending supply, at its beck and call.

When they left the Empire State Building, it followed them all the way back to their hotel. It found a vantage point, and watched as the young human woke and bathed Jack, and then put him to bed. It watched with renewed hunger as Jack was left alone to sleep, and then with disappointment as the young man returned and slipped into the bed with Jack.

Previously, it would have considered the young man a delectable treat but, as before on the Valiant, once it had feasted on Jack's life force, everything else thereafter tasted like ash. It wanted Jack, and Jack alone.

And so it stayed where it was, watching and waiting for an opportunity that it knew would eventually come.

* * *

_tbc..._


	12. Confrontations & Confessions

**IMPORTANT A/N**: _This chapter was completed as a joint effort with my good friend __**TrinityWildcat**__. She emailed me one day recently with a piece of writing that she did after being inspired by this story, and damn it, it was too good to allow it to go to waste. So after some collaboration between her and myself, I incorporated what she'd written into my story. _

_Her wonderful, insightful and inspiring contribution begins at the very start of this chapter, and comprises of the entire first segment of the chapter. I've added just a paragraph here and there to augment what she has done. _

_I want to thank her profusely for this, because it's given me fresh ideas when I felt things were starting to lag just a little. And to finish on a positive note – the next chapter is already half-written and, in my typical style, the proverbial is about to truly hit the fan. _

_**NB**: For those unfamiliar with Torchwood, Myfanwy is the resident Pterodactyl. And Jack's threat is not entirely in jest - he fed Ianto's girlfriend to it in the episode "Cyberwoman". The name is not made up by the fans, it was apparently christened Myfanwy by the cast and crew._

_

* * *

_

**_The following morning  
__One Police Plaza_**

_It's not an elevator, dammit, it's a lift._

Gwen stared at the offending set of metal doors, and silently tried to will the lift… _elevator_, _whatever_… into existence. It didn't work.

_Come on, come on, come on…_

She folded her arms, realised it made her look defensive, and stopped.

_How many damn floors does this place have, anyway? Cardiff CID never needed this many._

Gloomily, Gwen reflected that she must be one of the few people in history to be offered a free trip to New York from Wales and spend the whole time secretly wishing she was anywhere else.

_Time to toughen up, Gwen, you're in Torchwood now_…

It was the _eyes_ that got to you. She would have sworn that every single cop who had walked past her in the past – ten, fifteen? – minutes whilst she'd been waiting for the lift had given her the sort of look most people reserved for something nasty on the bottom of their shoe.

Any of the others in Torchwood would have said she was being paranoid, she reflected uneasily. (Apart from Owen, who would have just asked why she gave a monkey's about what a bunch of dumb Yanks though about her.) Then again, none of the others in Torchwood had ever put on a police uniform and headed out on a cold Saturday night knowing full well that, if push came to shove, the only thing standing between you and a bottling from a drunk would be the loyalty of your fellow officers. The brotherhood of the uniform was one of those things you had to experience, and she was the only one on the team who ever had. It was an extremely uncomfortable feeling to have it operating against you. Right now it felt like every single precinct of the NYPD had pinned up the faces of the Torchwood team in the break rooms, with instructions to cold shoulder and glower at them on every occasion.

_And whose fault is that?_

She winced at the thought, and felt guilty. After what Jack had been through, the least he deserved was his team's unquestioning loyalty and support. They had to stick together. If the NYPD was closing ranks, then Torchwood would close ranks against them. _In any case, they haven't got a clue what they're dealing with, and they should be grateful we're here to deal with it for them…_

"Hey there."

A deep male voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned quickly to see one of the Major Case Detectives standing next to her. _Logan_, her memory prompted her (she'd always had a good memory for names). She eyed him warily, all too conscious of the fact that only last night she and the others had yet again completely usurped his and his captain's authority at a crime scene.

She still had to struggle not to cringe at the memory of coming around the corner on the observation level of the Empire State Building to discover Ianto holding the ME at bay with Jack's gun, while Jack lay dead on the concrete. She was still waiting for the backlash on _that_ one. Of course, Jack had walked into One Police Plaza that morning like nothing had happened, with an enviable ability to completely ignore the pointed stares of every cop in the place. The rest of them weren't quite so accomplished.

However, just the fact that Jack was up and walking around that morning (the captain had still managed to rise first despite what had happened only hours before) was testament to his apparently phenomenal recuperative powers. Although… she suspected from the comment Ianto had made about sufficient hours sleep, or rather lack thereof – a comment Jack had studiously ignored – that perhaps he wasn't quite as well recovered as he would have had them all believe.

A hand alighted briefly on her shoulder, and she snapped out of her musings to find Mike watching her with an inscrutable gaze.

"Hey, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't…" She realised how defensive she sounded, and took an instant decision to stop it. "It's okay, don't worry about it."

"Been waiting long?"

"Ah… not too long." She cast a covert glance over Mike, cataloguing _six feet tall, leather jacket, seen-it-all-and-then-some eyes, probably still thinks he can make it with the ladies_…

He snorted. "Better get used to it. The brass haven't gotten around to fixing these for the past few years. Not a priority…"

"Things like that never are, are they?"

He chuckled. "Nah. I guess some things stay the same whichever side of the Atlantic you're on."

She smiled, and was rewarded with a friendly grin from Mike, which caused part of her brain to rewrite her last thought as …_and probably _can_ still make it with the ladies._ She stifled the thought, thinking of Rhys back home in Cardiff with a faintly guilty feeling, and cast a more questioning eye over Mike. He appeared to be being genuinely friendly. She should probably end the conversation quickly, before he tried to get information out of her about the killings, but it was such a relief to speak to someone who wasn't treating her like a lower form of life.

"So… what are you working on at the moment?" she asked, and then kicked herself, realising that she'd just given Mike the perfect opportunity to flip the question back at her, precisely what she didn't want him to do. Oh well, she'd have to deal with that situation when it happened.

"This and that. It's kinda chaotic at the moment… having to rearrange everyone's workloads." He shrugged. "Actually, right now I have a message for your boss, which is why I'm hanging around waiting for the frickin' elevator."

"You could give it to me, I'd be happy to deliver it," she offered, hoping to distract him from asking about how their investigation was going.

Mike smiled a very wry smile. "Actually, no offence, but no, I can't. This has to go to him, personally."

"Oh."

They stared at the metal doors for a few more seconds, then Mike turned suddenly. "Hey, you wanna take the stairs? We could be stuck here for hours."

She shrugged and nodded, then followed him as he led her towards a set of doors. The two of them started jogging up the steps, Gwen deliberately setting a fast pace. Annoyingly, Mike kept up with her; he might be, what? in his forties, fifties perhaps? but he was obviously still capable of pounding the streets. They reached a small landing about halfway up and paused for a breather.

Mike turned to her and grinned. Someone must have told him at some point in his life that he had a nice smile, Gwen reflected, since he seemed to use it so often. Not for the first time, she wished that they were working with the NYPD, not against them. _We could always retcon them afterwards…_

"Still getting used to these stairs… Staten Island PD doesn't have so many," he remarked, in between catching his breath.

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Ah, I used to be based out in Staten Island – moved to Major Case about two years back."

"You say "Staten Island" like it's a bad thing?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Yeah." He looked like he was going to add a few more words, then apparently thought better of it.

"So you're the new guy?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, kind of. I used to work Homicide, then I… got sent out there."

"Let me guess; it's where they send you…"

"… if you screw up, yeah."

"What did you do?"

Mike grinned again, with a faintly rueful air. "I punched a politician."

"Was it worth it?"

He laughed. "Not quite… ten years on Staten Island is a long time. How about you; how long have you been with Torchwood?"

"I don't want to talk about that," she snapped reflexively, and then blushed, as Mike held up his hands and pretended to back off.

"Okay, okay! Just asking." He gave her The Grin again, and set off up the stairs again. She followed, blushing with annoyance and wondering when she'd acquire Owen or Tosh's easy way of dealing with difficult questions about what they did for a living.

_Once you stop caring about other people so much_.

They reached the top of the stairs. Mike politely held the door for her, making a slightly theatrical gesture for her to go first. She didn't miss the slight buzz of curiosity that echoed as she entered the room with Mike close behind. Ignoring it, she walked purposefully across to the rooms Torchwood had commandeered from the Major Case Squad, Mike pacing beside her. He seemed tense, but Gwen put it down to his impending discussion with Jack. For a minute she saw Torchwood as everyone else in the building must do; a bunch of brash, British, intruders, who had insulted the NYPD's top investigative team, taken over their offices, and drawn a gun on their medical examiner… and who still hadn't managed to catch the killer.

She banished the thought, reminded herself that they should be grateful that the experts were here to handle the problem and that nothing would ever change the fact that Torchwood needed to keep its secrets. She opened their temporary office's door and leaned through it.

"Jack? You've got a visitor. Detective Logan. He says he has a message for you."

Jack was perched on the edge of a desk, one leg swinging in the air, going through some of Goren and Eames' files. He looked up from a set of notes, and his face darkened.

"Tell him it can wait."

From behind her, Mike's voice came through the open door: "Actually, Captain, no, it can't. This relates directly to the case."

Jack thought for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Okay. Gwen, let him in, but this had better not take too long."

She opened the door and gestured to Mike to step through. He sauntered in, his own face tightening just slightly as he saw the Torchwood team in possession of what until recently had been part of the Major Case Squad's own office. Jack did not look up at him, instead leaning over to Ianto and remarking: "We're going to need to speak to Goren again, I can't read some of these notes – can you go and get him?"

Ianto nodded and rose from his seat, but was stopped by Mike, who planted himself firmly between the younger man and the door. Ianto glared at him, and Gwen was reminded of the old saying about the irresistible force and the immovable object, except that in this case the immovable object was winning the battle.

Jack looked up from the papers and scowled. "Detective, get out of the way."

"In a few minutes."

Mike's face had set into a harder expression than Gwen had seen him wear so far. She could hear him saying again, _"…I used to work Homicide"_, and was suddenly and acutely aware that Mike's apparent affability must hide a core of steel, and suddenly equally aware that the closest she'd got to anything similar during her time on the force was arresting a few angry drunks in Cardiff city centre after closing time.

Jack rose from his desk, his coat falling into folds around him, and stalked across to confront the detective. "If your message is just for me, then let's hear it, but get out of Ianto's way first."

"Actually, he needs to be here for it." Mike glanced around at the rest of the team, who had stopped work to watch the confrontation taking place in front of them. "In fact, Captain Harkness, your whole team does."

Something about the way Mike ever-so-slightly emphasised the word "captain" in that sentence caused a deep feeling of unease, and Gwen suddenly had a sinking feeling she'd misread the entire situation. Jack, however, seemed dismissive of the whole thing, and gestured to Ianto to stay put for a few seconds.

"Okay, Detective, let's get this over with."

"Sure."

Almost the next thing Gwen knew, Jack was lying flat on his back, as Mike lunged at him with a punch that connected with Jack's right cheekbone with a sickening cracking sound, and enough force to knock him backwards onto the floor. Pandemonium reigned as Owen and Tosh simultaneously launched themselves towards Jack, Ianto whirled towards Mike with an expression that suggested he was seriously thinking about drawing Jack's gun on him, and Gwen… found herself paralysed, unsure whether to rush over and check whether Jack was okay, join Ianto in confronting Mike, or just stand there wondering what the hell had just happened.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" Owen started to rise to his feet, but was stopped by a force-ten glower from Mike that stated clearly that he would willingly punch Owen too.

"Shut up," he growled, very softly, but with sufficient force that even Owen stayed silent. They watched as Jack , leaning on Ianto's arm more heavily than he would have perhaps liked anyone else to see, got back onto his feet. His eyes were as dark and angry as Gwen had ever seen, and he stalked forward to confront the other man with a glare that would have terrified Gwen if it had been aimed at her, yet Mike seemed unfazed. Instead, he gestured around at the other members of Torchwood, and his expression changed from anger to a more thoughtful expression.

"This is your message, Captain. You come in here and take over our offices and our case, you insult my colleagues and treat us like a bunch of incompetent hicks… that's one thing."

Mike paused, and his face darkened. "You get one of us killed, you punch my captain, you point a gun at our M.E. … now, that's another. That's something else entirely. The NYPD looks after its own."

Jack took a step forward and the two men locked eyes, their expressions the sort that would have had Gwen yelling down the radio for back-up if she'd seen them outside a Cardiff pub at closing time.

"I'm sorry your officer was killed, but that is not my fault, _Detective_." Jack's voice was thick with pain, but his anger came through clearly. "You choose to disregard our advice, you are going to get yourselves killed, and that's nothing to do with us. That's your mistake, and that's on your heads. If Goren and Eames had listened to us…"

Mike sighed, a little wearily. "Yeah. Because you've given us so much reason to trust you, Captain. I didn't come up here just to slug you in the face; I came here to show you what's going to happen if you carry on like this. We feel the same way about ours as your team feels about you. Right now, the only thing we know is that you're withholding information about something which is killing our citizens, and our fellow officers..."

"We are the only people – the _only_ people – who can handle this, and if you insist on getting in the way, the consequences are not our responsibility." Jack spat the words out, and Gwen unwillingly found herself admiring Mike's determination to stand his ground. Most people, when faced with an angry Jack Harkness, would have cut and run.

"Yeah. That'll be a big consolation the _next_ time we get two fresh bodies on the street… oh, sorry, Captain. _One_ body." Mike's expression was entirely too knowing.

They stood nose-to-nose for a few seconds, then Jack sighed, and Gwen was suddenly chilled. _He looks… old. Frightened, almost_. She banished the thought, she had to be wrong, but, not for the first time, she found herself wondering just how badly damaged Jack was after what had happened on the Valiant.

"Okay, Detective, you've made your point. Now leave, and if I see you in here again…"

Mike snorted and interrupted him (and Gwen recognised the technique, classic detective move, _never leave without having the last word…_) "Yeah. I'll see myself out."

He turned on his heel and left, leaving Jack staring after him for a second, before he turned and snapped at them: "Okay, the show's over. Unless you've all forgotten, _it's_ still out there, so stop standing around and get back to work."

Tosh and Ianto seemed inclined to fuss over him, but a wordless glare from Jack sent them both scurrying back to their desks, albeit with a slightly reproachful air in the case of Ianto. Only Owen seemed inclined to ignore Jack, and sauntered over to him, raising a hand towards his face. As Gwen watched in turmoil, Jack's hand whipped up and caught the other man's wrist in a sufficiently hard grip that Owen visibly winced, but didn't pull away, saying softly: "That needs setting, mate, otherwise it won't heal as fast and it'll hurt a lot more."

"I can do it myself; get back to what you were doing."

Owen shrugged and turned away as Jack gingerly began to manipulate the bones of his own face back into place, crossing the floor and leaning down to speak to Ianto in a low whisper. Ianto paused in what he was doing to glance first at Jack and then back at Owen. He gave a single, quick shake of his head, and then went back to what he was doing without speaking a word. Owen nodded to himself and, with apparently fresh purpose, strode from the room. Gwen wondered only briefly what that was all about before returning her attention to Jack.

The expression on Owen's face was dark and determined, and she wondered if he too was having the same thoughts as her. Just how badly damaged _was_ Jack? She felt a stir of unease. Of all the other members of the team, Owen was the most likely to take that thought to the next logical stage; _should Jack even be in charge of Torchwood at the moment? _

She shook her head slightly, banishing the thought. Right now, Jack needed their support, not their disloyalty. Nevertheless, something drove her to step out of the room rather than rejoining the team, where, a few paces down one of the corridors, she found Mike bathing his rapidly-blackening knuckles under the water fountain. She paused, wondering what to say, then Mike's head snapped up. Her words died in her throat as he gave her the same unfriendly look as every other cop in the building.

"Not going to apologise, sweetheart."

She bristled slightly at being called 'sweetheart', but decided that it was not the time or the place to get into an argument over that, seeing as the big detective had just shattered Jack's cheekbone with a single punch.

"I'm not going to ask you to."

"Good." He sighed and they stared at each other for a few minutes.

"Listen, I don't know who you are. I don't know what Torchwood is. But what I do know, Ms Cooper, is that I've been putting away murderers since before you left school. I do not like dead bodies on the streets of New York, and I _really_ don't like it when people keep information from me that stops me from catching their killers."

"I understand."

"I hope so." He sighed again. "I gotta get back to the squad room. See you around."

He turned and left, leaving Gwen to the turmoil of her thoughts.

* * *

Dogged by shadows that haunted his dreams, Ianto awoke just before six the next morning. A quick glance at Jack told him that the captain had had a peaceful night for once, his rest undisturbed by nightmares. A closer look revealed a renewed tinge of colour to his face that had been missing during the previous day – particularly after Detective Logan's unexpected and unwarranted assault. No, it seemed that Jack was finally recovering from the Grysliaak's attack, something that was most likely aided by the mild sedative that he and Owen had secretly added to Jack's coffee after they'd arrived back at the hotel last night.

Ianto grimaced. The last time they'd drugged Jack had been for exactly the same reason; because he needed real rest after a violent and traumatic death experience. Regardless of intentions, though, Jack was still likely to throttle them both when he woke up and realised what they'd done. A moment beyond that, Ianto smiled as he decided that he simply didn't care.

Unable to resist, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Jack's in a feather-light kiss. Jack stirred but didn't awaken. Smiling to himself, Ianto quietly got dressed and slipped out of the bedroom, leaving Jack to sleep in peace.

* * *

To his surprise, Ianto emerged to find that Owen was already up and dressed. In fact, Ianto thought as he set about brewing a fresh pot of coffee, it looked suspiciously like he had either slept in his clothes, or not slept at all. He opted not to comment, instead passing the medic a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

"Ianto, you're a godsend," Owen muttered as he took the mug gratefully.

"Did you sleep at all?" Ianto wondered, giving in to his curiosity.

"Got in a couple of hours," Owen murmured. "Been thinking about this Grysliaak thing. Jack said it's effectively a mass of energy, right?"

"Yes," Ianto agreed with a slight frown. He wasn't quite sure where Owen was going with this, and nor was he sure that he wanted to know. "That's right. Why?"

"Okay. So, shouldn't there be a way to cancel that out?"

"You mean if we were to hit it with an enormous charge of power, or something like that?" Ianto wondered.

"Yeah," Owen confirmed. "I mean, the other alternative is to let the fucking thing keep feeding off Jack until it becomes totally solid, and then shoot it in the head."

"No," Ianto growled vehemently, and Owen held up his hands defensively.

"Wasn't suggesting it. Just laying it out on the table. We really don't have a lot in the way of options here, Ianto."

"I'm fully aware of that, Owen."

"Is that fresh coffee? Oh, thank God…"

Ianto and Owen watched in amusement, their discussion momentarily forgotten, as Gwen emerged, still looking half asleep. Just a few minutes later, Tosh came out as well, looking considerably more awake than Gwen.

"Where's Jack?" Gwen wondered once she'd downed half a mug of coffee. Ianto indicated back towards his bedroom.

"Still asleep. He'll kill me for letting him sleep on, but it's the first time he's not had any nightmares. I just didn't want to wake him before I really need to when he's actually getting proper rest for once."

"Are we still going to put it to him when he wakes up?" Tosh asked, and Owen nodded.

"Definitely. No other choice."

A frown slowly filtered across Ianto's face.

"Put what to him?"

The other three exchanged long glances before Owen caved and explained what they were talking about.

"We're going to suggest to Jack that we ask for help. You know… from the detectives. We can't deal with this alone anymore, Ianto. You know we can't. Look at what happened to Jack last night, for God's sake."

Ianto stared stonily at Owen.

"And that's your solution, is it? To put more people at risk? Jack will never agree, and I don't either. So, if you were hoping to get me on side to convince Jack, then you can forget it. This is our responsibility, and we'll find a way to deal with it that doesn't include putting others in danger."

"You're being a moron, Ianto!" Owen growled impatiently. "We can't do this on our own, and Jack's going to be the one to suffer for it! Is that what you really want?"

Ianto said nothing, his thoughts going to Jack's request, to call Martha if something went terribly wrong. Just how wrong _was_ 'terribly wrong', anyway? One death for Jack? Two? More? Or should he do as Jack had explicitly instructed, and make the call only when Jack had been taken by the monster that they were hunting?

It disturbed him greatly to realise that he was, in fact, thinking 'when', and not 'if'.

He had no chance to dwell on those thoughts, though. A sharp rapping on the door of the suite jolted them all back to reality. Sparing his colleagues a dark look that warned them the discussion was not done with yet, he went to see who was at the door.

"Bloody hell," he hissed a moment later as he peered through the peephole. "It's Captain Ross and his detectives."

"Fuck, what do they want?" Owen muttered. Ianto briefly considered ignoring them and not opening the door at all, except that he knew they would have to face them sooner or later. That, and it was entirely likely that they would use their authority to get the concierge to let them in. Grimacing, Ianto made up his mind and opened the door to the detectives and their captain.

Owen came forward, shoulders squared as he psyched himself up to deal with them, but Ross got in first.

"I don't want to hear a word from you, Dr Harper. I want to see your captain, right now. Where is he?"

Owen raised an eyebrow in amusement, tempted to make a smart mouthed remark about not saying a word, only to decide that it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do when confronted by four visibly angry cops.

"He's still asleep, Captain Ross. He's still recovering from what happened two nights ago." He paused, firing an angry look in Mike's direction. "And what happened yesterday didn't help either, thanks very much."

Ross frowned, looking from Owen back to Mike, genuinely puzzled.

"What's he talking about, Logan?"

Mike was unapologetic. He knew it would come out sooner or later, and he was willing to face whatever reprimand Ross had for him, knowing full well that it was probably all he would get. Ross was far too pissed off with the Torchwood crew to really take him to task over punching Harkness and, even if he wasn't, as far as Mike was concerned a reprimand was worth the satisfaction of knocking the arrogant bastard off his feet.

"I gave Captain Harkness a message yesterday," Mike answered placidly. "On behalf of the squad."

Slowly, Ross turned to face his detective. He suspected he knew what was coming, but he wanted to hear it from Mike's own lips.

"What sort of message?"

"I hit him," Mike told him. Ross shut his eyes for a moment, only barely suppressing a groan.

"Damn it, Logan…"

Owen and Ianto exchanged bemused glances. Clearly Ross had been ignorant of his detective's little attempt to assert his authority the previous day.

"As I said, Jack is recovering, and we'd all appreciate it if you'd kindly clear out. He needs to rest, not be harassed by you lot."

Ross turned so fast that Owen nearly stumbled backwards. His expression was hard and angry, and very much unrelenting.

"You will go and wake your captain right now, Dr Harper."

Owen stared at him with an angry glower.

"Or what, Captain Ross?"

Ross stepped forward, until he was almost nose to nose with Owen.

"Or else we'll arrest your colleague here for threatening our ME with a gun."

Owen glanced at Ianto who, far from looking alarmed, instead looked slightly perturbed at being dragged into the middle. The medic turned his attention back to Ross, and finally allowed himself a small, cold smile.

"You go ahead and try that, Captain, and I guarantee you'll get booted out of the NYPD so hard that you'll land in fucking Alaska."

"You think you have that authority?" Ross asked with a slight sneer. To his irritation, Owen's grin widened.

"Not me, Captain. I meant Jack. Do you realise he has a personal hotline to your President?"

Ross couldn't quite hide the discomfort that flickered across his face at that revelation, although he made an admirable effort. Behind Owen, Tosh coughed conspicuously, and Ianto spoke up in a deceptively bored tone.

"Yes, well, if you two would like to put a hold on your little struggle for alpha male status, perhaps we can all sit down and discuss the situation reasonably. What do you say, hmm? And I'll make us all a lovely cup of coffee."

"You just said the magic word," Alex murmured appreciatively as Ross and Owen both backed down at the same time. Ianto smile wryly.

"Doesn't matter how wide the cultural divide. Coffee is universally understood."

* * *

Ten minutes later, they all sat down with freshly brewed coffee, and all noticeably calmer for it.

"Is he really still sleeping?" Mike asked, just a hint of scepticism in his voice.

"Yes," he is," Ianto confirmed. "And it's so rare for him to get a decent amount of sleep, that we really would prefer that he not be prematurely disturbed."

All of a sudden, Gwen made an odd noise and focused a hard stare on both Ianto and Owen.

"You did it again, didn't you?"

"Did what again?" Ross asked in confusion when neither man answered. Gwen was positively glowering by then.

"Drugged him, that's what. They decided Jack wasn't getting enough rest, and so they drugged his coffee. He's going to kill you both, you know that?"

Owen grunted.

"He can do what he bloody well likes. Better to knock him out for one night than have him collapse on us at a critical moment. Despite everything, the man is still human, and he can run himself to exhaustion just like the rest of us."

At that, Alex glanced pointedly at Bobby, but opted against saying anything. Ross spared them a glance, and then returned his attention to the Torchwood team.

"We need to talk about what happened the other night. No matter what you try to tell us, it doesn't change the fact that your captain was dead. And then… he wasn't."

"Why can't you just let it go?" Tosh asked, a hint of anxiety in her tone. It was Bobby who spoke when both Ross and Mike hesitated.

"We're NYPD. We pride ourselves on being rational and logical. Two nights ago, Captain Ross and Detective Logan witnessed something that wasn't rational or logical. We can't explain it, but they know what they saw."

Ianto regarded Bobby placidly.

"Perhaps they simply didn't see what they thought they did."

"He was dead, damn it!" Mike burst out abruptly. "We were there! We saw it, and our ME saw it, and she would _not_ make a mistake like that!"

Ianto was still considering what to say when Gwen suddenly spoke in a quiet, lulling tone.

"What if we were to tell you that you were right? That Jack _was_ dead, but that he came back to life?"

"Gwen…" Owen said softly, but she ignored him.

"What if we went a step further, though? What if we told you that Jack can't die?"

"You're out of your goddamned mind," Mike said hoarsely. "You can't expect us to believe that."

Gwen leaned forward, staring at him with a piercing gaze.

"Then why do you think we want you to forget about what you saw?"

Silence descended like a crushing weight on all of them. Eventually, Bobby broke it in a wonder-filled voice.

"He can't die. You really are serious… Jack really can't die."

Before Gwen had a chance to respond, Alex spoke up in a strained voice.

"No. No way. That isn't possible. It… It just isn't. You're crazy, you're all crazy!"

Ianto watched her grimly for a long moment before looking around slowly at the others. Like Alex, Mike was refusing to accept Gwen's words. Ross, surprisingly, appeared to be at least considering them, although the jury was still out on whether he could bring himself to believe it or not. Bobby, on the other hand…

Bobby had already accepted it, Ianto realised with some degree of surprise. He'd accepted the truth about Jack without protest, and there was a strangely calm look in his eyes. He didn't appear unsettled in the slightest which, in turn, left Ianto feeling unsettled.

"What do you want from us?" Ross asked, and the strain of all that had happened was just slightly audible in his voice. Owen deferred to Ianto, knowing full well that if it were left to him to respond, he would do so with a smart-mouthed and highly inappropriate remark.

Ianto, for his part, drew in a steadying breath. He could hardly believe what he was about to say, but after Gwen's ill-timed exposé he could see no point in any further subterfuge. He could only hope that Jack wouldn't flay the lot of them for it.

"We need your help."

Again, silence reigned.

"You… need _our_ help?" Ross asked finally. Though Ianto didn't physically flinch at the captain's tone, inwardly he was cringing.

"There are only five of us, Captain Ross, and now that we know what it is that we're dealing with, we need all the extra manpower we can get."

"This is rich," Mike snorted derisively.

"Shut up, Logan," Ross told him sharply, without taking his eyes off Ianto. "Assuming we agree…"

He never got any further. An instant later, the most god-awful scream any one of them had ever heard suddenly shattered the quiet.

"What the hell?" Mike gasped, launching himself to his feet.

"Jack!" Gwen cried out.

"That's no nightmare," Ianto said urgently, and took off down the hallway at a run, with both his Torchwood colleagues and the Major Case captain and detectives right behind him.

He burst into the room to a terrifying sight. A half-formed opaque creature was on top of Jack on the bed, pinning him down with a brutal strength while it fed off him like some demented sort of vampire. Trapped beneath it, Jack's body had gone rigid and the screams of pain ripped from his throat as wave after wave of agony washed over him.

The creature's body was alight with the energy that it was dragging out of Jack, and surplus electricity left the air powerfully charged.

"No, get off him!" Gwen screamed, and ran forward without thinking. She threw herself at the monster, but to no positive effect. There was a loud crack that all-too-briefly drowned out Jack's strangled screams, and Gwen went flying across the room, slammed into the wall and slumped to the floor, stunned beyond response.

Owen started forward as well, as the screams rapidly diminished into sick, gurgling moans, only to be pulled back by both Ianto and Ross.

"Don't," Ianto gasped. "Remember what Jack said."

"Fuck that!" Owen bellowed, struggling to get free of their grip. "We can't just let it kill him! Not again!"

And yet, to the horror of all of them, it appeared that there was no other choice. They could do nothing but stand there, helpless, as Jack's life was drained from him once more.

Owen was on the cusp of arguing again when suddenly he, Ianto and Ross were all pushed forcefully out of the way. A moment later, Bobby Goren charged the creature on the bed, and clutched in his hands was one of the wooden chairs from the suite's dining room.

As they watched, he swung the chair with all of his strength and it collided with the Grysliaak's near-solid form, sending it flying off the bed and into the nearby wall. Then, dropping the chair, Bobby drew his gun and aimed it swiftly at the monster.

"I'll bet you're solid enough now to take a bullet. What do you think?"

The Grysliaak stared at Bobby with a hate-filled glare, before launching itself upwards and going out the window with a howl of rage.

Ianto broke his paralysis almost immediately, and ran to Jack's side. Owen was not far behind him.

"Is he okay?" Ross asked, even though he strongly suspected that he wouldn't be.

"No," Owen answered in a strained voice. "He's not okay. Damn it!"

"But he's still alive," Ianto gasped hoarsely as he looked Jack over in borderline panic. "He's not dead!"

"Not yet," Owen said grimly. "It's not going to be long, though. Damn it, how the hell did that thing get the drop on him twice?"

Even as he asked the question, though, he knew the answer, and Tosh confirmed his fears in a shaken and angry voice.

"Because you drugged him, you idiots! You might as well have drawn a target on his chest, and hung a sign out the window saying come and get me! You practically set him up for this!"

Ianto and Owen exchanged stricken looks. As much as they might each try to deny it, Tosh was right. Though their intentions had been good, drugging Jack had only served to leave him vulnerable to a second attack by the Grysliaak. Turning his attention back to Jack, Ianto gently took up Jack's hand and cradled it lovingly to his cheek.

"C'mon, Jack," the Welshman whispered desperately. "C'mon, fight it. Fight…"

"I'm calling for an ambulance," Ross stated suddenly, pulling out his cell phone even as he spoke. He was startled, as were his detectives, when Owen suddenly rounded on him and grabbed his wrist in a ferocious grip.

"No. Put that away. We don't need an ambulance."

Ross looked as though he was going to argue, but something in Owen's expression stopped him cold. His eyes hard, Ross conceded and put his cell phone away.

A sickening, gurgling moan drew their attention away from the stand-off between Ross and Owen, and they all looked around just as Jack's eyes half-opened, and focused just briefly on Ianto. They were filled with a pain that was heart-breaking. His mouth opened, as though he was trying to speak, but the attempt ended in a violent siezure, and his body began to convulse uncontrollably.

"He's siezing!" Owen shouted unnecessarily. Bobby moved in to try and help hold Jack down, but it proved to be a pointless exercise.

"His body is fighting to regenerate the energy that was stolen," Owen growled. "Goddamn it, he should just die! Why the hell won't he die?"

"Shit!" Ianto burst out as blood suddenly bubbled up and out of Jack's mouth.

"He's going to choke on his own blood!" Ross shouted. "For God's sake, let us call an ambulance!"

"No!" Owen thundered. "I told you, no ambulances."

"Owen, please!" Tosh cried out, unable to stand watching Jack suffer any longer. "Finish it off for him! Don't let him go through this! You know he won't stop fighting! He can't! Please... just finish him so his body can heal!"

Owen looked around at Ianto, pale and distressed. Tosh was right, and they both knew it. On the other hand, who was to say that a bullet at this stage, when Jack was so weak, wouldn't succeed where so much else had failed.

In the next moment, though, the decision was taken out of their hands. Jack's body convulsed once more, blood spraying from his mouth as his internal organs finally failed, and then he fell limp against the bed. Silence fell as Owen leaned in and checked for a pulse with trembling fingers.

"That's it," he said quietly, soberly. "He's gone."

Ross walked over and, after getting a nod from Owen, also checked Jack's vital signs.

"Nothing," he confirmed. "He's dead."

"So what now?" Mike asked. Ianto spoke grimly as Owen went to see to Gwen, who was still slumped on the floor, unconscious.

"Now we wait."

* * *

The minutes ticked by with a painful slowness as they stood around waiting. Nearly twenty minutes had gone by before Mike suddenly uttered a frustrated noise.

"This is insane. He's _dead_. We should be calling in the ME." He shook his head. "I'm not waiting around here any longer."

He turned to go, but Ross spoke firmly, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay right where you are, Logan. Don't you leave this room. We missed what happened the last time. We're not going to miss it again. You will stay and witness it."

Irritation flashed across Mike's face, but he conceded and turned his attention back to the bed.

"How long does it usually take?" Bobby wondered, his eyes fixed on Jack's ashen features. Both Mike and Alex shot him strained looks, but Ross was with Bobby, watching Jack intently and waiting for an answer from one of the Torchwood crew.

"Usually only minutes," Tosh answered softly as she brought a cloth in from the bathroom and gently began to clean the blood from Jack's face. "But circumstances like this are different. When he faced Abaddon back home, he was dead for nearly a week before he came back to us. And it took him nearly an hour to come back to life after he was attacked and killed two nights ago."

"He was already weak," Owen said from where he stood sombrely by the bedside. "It might be longer this time before he comes back."

Behind them, Alex muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'crazy bastards', which the rest of them pointedly ignored. Ianto, who had seated himself on the edge of the bed, took Jack's hand in his own and held it gently.

"We have to be patient. He'll come back. He always comes back."

"You're not just talking about him coming back to life," Bobby stated quietly. "There's something else to it, isn't there?"

"That is irrelevant," Ianto said stiffly, only to be interrupted by a conspicuous cough from Gwen, who was still looking a little pale herself from her brief encounter with the Grysliaak.

"Perhaps not completely irrelevant..." she said tentatively. Ianto frowned at her, but before he could say anything else, Jack suddenly reanimated with a strangled gasp, his body arching up off the bed. Immediately, Ianto's attention was exclusively on Jack, oblivious to the stunned gazes of the detectives.

"It's all right, Jack. I'm here. Just breathe deeply, and don't panic."

Jack shuddered violently as he gradually came back to awareness, and his memories slowly pieced themselves back together.

"It came for me again, didn't it?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes," Ianto confirmed grimly. He could see no point in lying. "It did. I'm sorry, Jack. I should never have..."

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Jack answered with a light squeeze of his hand.

"Not your fault. If you'd been with me, it would have killed you to get to me."

Ianto blanched visibly, realising that Jack had made the wrong assumption about why he was feeling guilty.

"That... It's not what I meant," he admitted stumblingly. Jack's pale blue eyes met Ianto's in a hard stare.

"I know, and the next time you and Owen drug me, I'll feed you both to Myfanwy."

Ianto paled slightly, but nodded in acceptance. Jack sighed faintly and his gaze shifted around the room, eventually coming to rest on Ross and the detectives.

"What are they doing here?" he demanded tensely.

"They were here when you were attacked, Jack," Tosh told him gently. "They saw everything."

"And they're not quite as useless as we supposed," Owen said dryly. "While we all stood around like monkeys, Detective Goren there had the presence of mind to grab one of the wooden dining chairs and knock the Grysliaak off you before it could finish you off."

Bobby wasn't entirely sure what to expect when Jack looked over at him. A grudging thanks at best, perhaps. What he wasn't anticipating was the open look of gratitude and respect that Jack directed at him. For several seconds, the two men locked stares, and Bobby found himself having to look away first, unable to match the intensity of Jack's gaze. Even weakened as he was, the man had a natural, powerful charisma that was impossible to match.

Smiling faintly to himself, Jack attempted to push himself up. There was precious little strength in his upper body, though, and his arms gave out beneath him.

"Easy," Ianto murmured. "Just take it slowly."

"No time," Jack argued. "Help me up, Ianto, please..."

Frowning his disapproval, Ianto nevertheless took Jack's arm and helped him to get up. At the sight of his body, clad scantily in boxer shorts and nothing else, Alex coughed and turned away.

"I'll just wait outside."

Jack looked up at her, genuinely amused by her reaction.

"Never seen a guy in his shorts before, Detective?"

"Stop it," Ianto admonished him. "Not everyone appreciates your exhibitionist tendencies, Jack."

"I think," Ross said wryly, "that perhaps we'll all wait outside while Captain Harkness makes himself more presentable."

The detectives all filed compliantly from the room, followed by Owen and Tosh, leaving Ianto to help Jack shower and get dressed. Not one of them could fail to smile, though, as Jack's indignant voice reached them from within the bedroom.

"What's the point of being exhibitionist is no one ever wants to hang around and watch...?"

* * *

"Doesn't that bother you?" Alex asked Tosh as they sat themselves down in the living room. Tosh looked at her in genuine surprise.

"What? Do you mean Jack?"

"Yes."

A knowing smile touched Tosh's lips.

"No, you tend to get used to it. He doesn't mean any harm by it. It's just the way he is."

"You mean permanently lecherous?" she retorted. Gwen laughed softly.

"Jack is just from a time where people are a lot more... relaxed about their sexuality."

Alex blinked in astonishment as Gwen's words registered in her already overloaded mind.

"I'm sorry... Did you say _time_? Don't you mean he's from another _place_?"

Owen uttered a short laugh.

"You detectives don't miss a thing. No, Gwen did not mean he's from another place. Our Jack is, in fact, from the fifty-first century."

"Now I really have heard everything," Mike muttered. Bobby frowned at him from across the room.

"Mike, you just witnessed the man coming back to life after being dead for nearly half an hour. Is it really so hard to believe this now?"

"Good point," Mike conceded, sinking back into his seat.

"If he's from that far into the future," Ross said with a concentrated frown, "that what's he doing in our time? And how did he get here?"

"That, Captain Ross," Owen stated quietly, "is up to Jack to explain."

"You don't know?" Alex wondered.

"We know," Tosh confirmed. "But it's not our place to tell. It's Jack's story, and he should be the only one to tell it."

* * *

"I am starting to get sick of this," Jack muttered, all the flirtatiousness gone from his demeanour in an instant once he and Ianto were alone. Ianto glanced back to where Jack currently sat slumped in a chair, while he adjusted the water temperature in the shower. Jack still looked only half aware, though whether that was a result of the attack or from being sedated, Ianto couldn't know for certain.

Guilt pervaded the Welshman's senses as he was again reminded that Jack's vulnerability to attack was at least partially his fault.

"I'm sorry, Jack," he said softly. "We didn't stop to think that it would leave you open to an attack like that."

Slowly, Jack lifted his head to look at the other man, and it was all Ianto could do not to physically cringe at the dark circles that now appeared under Jack's eyes. However bad he had looked before, he was now looking ten times worse.

"You were worried about me. I get that. But I need you to be smarter than that, Ianto. I'm relying on you to back me up here, more than anyone else. I'm sorry if that doesn't seem fair, but you're the only one I trust to do what has to be done… to let happen what has to happen."

Ianto looked distinctly unhappy as he helped Jack to his feet and slipped the boxers down his hips before guiding him gently into the shower.

"You mean let it take you."

"If it saves lives, then yes. You have my instructions. Don't try to save me. Just let it take me, and then call Martha."

"And if I don't want to do that?"

Jack paused, staring at Ianto through slightly bloodshot eyes.

"You can question what I ask you to do any time, and I'll welcome it. But not now. Not this time. Please, Ianto, just promise me you'll do as I ask?"

Ianto leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Jack's, ignoring the water that sprayed across his face and shirt in the process.

"You're not going to lose me, Jack. I promise."

He felt Jack shudder against him, and felt one arm slip around behind his neck, holding him close.

"Don't make promises that you might not be able to keep."

* * *

_tbc..._


	13. Coming Clean

Jack emerged with Ianto nearly half an hour later; showered, dressed and still looking like death warmed up. Despite his sallow appearance, though, he flashed Alex a cheeky grin as he sank into an empty armchair.

"Better, Detective Eames?"

"Much," Alex replied, not batting an eyelid and easily holding his gaze. Jack chuckled softly, although the sound seemed forced.

"Okay, then. We have a lot to sort out, and not a lot of time to do it. But I suppose we'll have to deal with your curiosity first, before we can deal with the real issues. So out with it, Detectives. Ask your questions. This may be the only opportunity you'll have, so don't waste it."

"Who are you really?" Alex demanded to know, before the others had the chance to utter a single word.

"That's one thing I _can't _tell you," Jack said apologetically. "All I can tell you is that I'm an ex-time agent and I'm from the fifty-first century. But I can't tell you my real name."

"For our protection?" Mike retorted sceptically, and Jack shook his head emphatically.

"No, Detective. For mine. There are a lot of people from my time who would love to get their hands on me, and I don't mean that in a good way. I'm safe from them as long as I don't give away my true identity."

"How did you end up in the twenty-first century?" Bobby wondered. Jack hesitated at that, wondering exactly what to say, and how much.

"That's a long story," he said finally, soberly. "Too long to tell now. The short version is that I was caught up in a very big fight a long time into the future. The one I was travelling with abandoned me on a derelict space station, and I had to use this to escape." He tapped the leather strap on his wrist. "You wanted to know what this is, Bobby? It's called a vortex manipulator. It allowed me to travel through time. I aimed to land in the early twenty-first century, because I thought that would be my best chance of finding my friend…"

"Some friend," Mike retorted. "I wouldn't call someone who abandoned me like that a friend."

"He had his reasons," Jack said, although his subdued tone of voice suggested that perhaps he himself didn't quite believe that argument. "My problem was that I got the coordinates a little skewed, and I landed in 1869. Then the manipulator burnt out, so I couldn't try again. I had to live right through the tail end of the nineteenth century and all of the twentieth before I finally caught up with him again."

"Whoa there," Alex cut in, her voice heavy with disbelief. "1869? That would make you a hundred and thirty-eight years old!"

"Actually," Jack corrected with a wry smile, "I'm closer to a hundred and seventy. I was around thirty-two when the battle on the game station happened. That was when I stopped being mortal."

"Yeah, how did that happened, exactly?" Mike asked, his tone borderline cynical.

"I can try to tell you, but I don't think you'll understand. I barely understand it myself."

"Try us," Alex threw at him, and Jack shrugged.

"Okay. I was killed in the battle on the game station. Dead, deceased, departed, however you want to put it. But I had two friends… Two extraordinary friends. Rose… She opened up the heart of the ship we were travelling in, and absorbed the time vortex. She brought me back to life, but in the process she gave me immortality."

He fell quiet, taking a moment to study their expressions. There was the whole range there – confusion, wonder… an insatiable curiosity on Bobby's part – but now there was no disbelief. Hard though it was, each one of them seemed to have accepted what they had seen and what Jack had just told them. For that, Jack was both grateful and impressed.

"Let me try to sum this up," Ross said dryly. "You can't die, and you're at least a hundred and seventy years old. You're from the future, and now you head an agency that specialises in catching aliens."

Jack grinned.

"Couldn't have said that better myself."

Ross nodded passively.

"All right, then. What is it that we're looking for now? Because it clearly isn't human."

"It's called a Grysliaak," Jack explained. "I don't know where it's from, but that's not important right now. A Grysliaak is literally a sentient mass of energy that survives by feeding off other life forms. If it feeds off one particular species for long enough, it can take on that form."

"Which would make it even harder to find," Bobby said grimly, and Jack answered with a confirming nod.

"Right. Once it's completed the change, it can blend in anywhere. At the moment, it's still at least partially vulnerable."

"So what do you need us to do?' Ross asked, drawing a startled look from Jack. It was obvious that he hadn't been expecting such swift agreement. He recovered quickly, though, and spoke urgently.

"We need to set a trap for it. Now, while it's still vulnerable."

"How do we do that?" Bobby asked. Jack hesitated there, his gaze flickering uneasily to Ianto. He knew Ianto was profoundly upset at the idea of him being bait, but it couldn't be helped. He simply couldn't see any other way to do it that wouldn't result in the loss of more innocent lives.

"We draw it out into the open using bait."

"Bait?" Mike echoed. "What bait?"

"Jack…" Ianto growled softly in warning. Jack ignored him.

"Me, Detective Logan. I'm the bait."

"Isn't that going to be a little obvious?" Alex wondered. "Surely it's going to realise it's a trap, and stay away."

"It'll know," Jack conceded, "but it won't be able to stay away. It took a big chance, coming for me in the hotel room earlier, so it's a fair bet that it's hooked already. Even if it's a blatant trap, it's not going to be able to resist any opportunity that it's presented with. It'll come after me, I guarantee it, no matter how obvious it is."

"Damn it, Jack," Owen growled, though there was a resignation to his voice. Jack sighed heavily.

"Look at it this way. It _is_ going to come after me again, so we might as well try to turn that to our advantage."

"You're confident that it won't attack anyone else now," Ross said quietly. Jack nodded.

"I know it won't."

"How can you know?" Ross argued, searching for some sort of definitive reassurance that no more innocent lives would be lost. "How can you be so certain?"

"Captain Ross, you're going to have to trust me," Jack said soberly. "Now that it's… reacquainted itself with me, it's not going to want anyone else."

Ross nodded his acceptance, though with some reluctance.

"All right, then, Captain Harkness. What do you need from us?"

* * *

Over the next couple of hours, they talked through their options and formulated a plan. According to Jack, luring the Grysliaak would not be hard. It had developed a taste for him again, and it wouldn't be long before it tried for him once more. The real trick would be trapping it.

"We have a few things," Jack went on. "Some pieces of technology that we can use, but I don't know how effective they'll be against it."

Ross stood up. It was high time they got to One Police Plaza, and he had a squad to get organised.

"We'll deal with it one step at a time. Now, we have to get to One Police Plaza."

Jack nodded.

"We'll see you there in an hour."

Ross made his way out, with Alex and Mike close behind. Bobby, however, hung back and stared at Jack thoughtfully.

"What is it, Bobby?" Jack asked quietly, bracing himself for some curly question.

"You said it had reacquainted itself with you," Bobby said. "You've run into this same creature before."

It was not a question, and Jack suddenly lacked the inclination to lie, or to brush off the query.

"Yes," he answered. "I have, but don't ask me to tell you about it, because I won't. It's nothing that could help us anyway. I wasn't exactly in a position to fight back the last time."

Bobby regarded him piercingly.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone as secretive as you, Jack. Don't you trust anyone?"

Jack nodded calmly, and motioned with his hands to the other four who stood around him.

"Yes. You're looking at them."

Contrary to the irritation that Jack expected to see on the detective's face, Bobby actually smiled and nodded approvingly.

"Good. That's a good thing. See you back at One Police Plaza." He paused, and then added sincerely, "I'm glad that we're working together now."

And then he was gone, following his captain and colleagues out of the hotel suite. Jack watched him go wonderingly.

"He is smart, that one," Owen mused. Ianto hesitated, and then added to Owen's comments.

"And he hasn't had any trouble accepting any of this."

The look on Jack's face became a thoughtful one at that.

"No. No, he hasn't."

A moment later, he shook himself out of his reverie, and clapped his hands together.

"Let's get moving. We have work to do."

* * *

The moment that they arrived back at One Police Plaza, Jack diverted into Ross's office. They watched as the two men exchanged words, and then Ross grimly pulled the blinds and shut the door, shutting out wandering eyes and loose ears.

"I don't like this," Owen muttered to no one in particular. "What the hell is he up to?"

"I have my suspicions," Ianto murmured, "and if I'm right, I may just kill him myself. C'mon. Let's just try and get some work done."

* * *

In Ross's office, the Major Case captain was eyeing Jack's features critically.

"I spoke to Logan, and he told me what he did yesterday. If you want to press charges for assault..."

Jack regarded Ross calmly, with not the slightest hint of animosity. If anything, he looked amused that such a thought would even occur to Ross.

"Why would I want to do that?"

Ross hesitated, staring at Jack in puzzlement.

"He hit you, Captain. In fact, he says he's sure that he hit you so hard that he broke your cheekbone. And yet..."

Jack brushed his fingertips lightly over his cheek, where Mike had hit him just the previous day. There was no pain now, of course, but the memory of his cheekbone cracking from the force of the blow was definitely cringeworthy. Mike Logan had one hell of a right hook.

"So..." Jack said with a faint smile. "You were expecting what? That I'd look like the Elephant Man?"

"I expected to see a bruise, at the very least."

"Captain Ross," Jack said softly, "you watched me come back to life this morning. How much more of a stretch is it to accept that my body heals a lot faster than other people's?"

Ross considered that before nodding in concession.

"Point taken. You're a remarkable man, Captain Harkness."

Jack grinned then.

"That's nicer than most of the things I get called."

Ross couldn't help smiling in return. Despite his apparent arrogance – which Ross was now starting to see as something else entirely – he was beginning to genuinely like the brash American.

"All right, then. What did you want to talk to me about?"

In an instant, all signs of amusement and banter were gone from Jack's face, and he was all business.

"I want to talk to you about how we can deal with what's ahead, without any of your people getting killed. I'm particularly concerned about Detective Goren."

It was with some effort that Ross didn't visibly cringe. He should have see that one coming, given everything that had happened so far.

"Don't misunderstand me," Jack went on. "I don't mean any disrespect to Bobby, but I don't want him to be hurt, or killed, because he won't follow my orders. Can he be trusted to do what he's told to do, and only that? Or am I going to have to leave him out of this operation?"

Ross shifted in his chair, suddenly on edge. He knew, of course, that Jack's concerns were perfectly reasonable, but he dreaded the idea of telling Bobby that he had to sit it out.

"He'll follow your lead, Captain, as long as you give him good, solid reasons to. And don't hold out on him. Don't avoid explaining anything to him because you think he won't understand. Odds are he'll understand better than anyone. Make no assumptions where Goren is concerned. He'll knock you on your ass every single time."

Jack allowed himself a tight smile. He knew that tone all too well.

"Speaking from experience, Captain Ross?"

"And then some, Captain Harkness."

"What do _you_ think of him? Honestly."

Ross seemed taken aback by the unexpected question, but answered nonetheless.

"Honestly? The man drives me up the wall most days. He has some serious issues with authority, he's stubborn, impatient, unorthodox and insolent to the point of insubordination... but he's also singularly one of the most brilliant detectives that I've ever had the privilege of working with. His solve rate is unmatched in the NYPD, and honestly, I sometimes think it's the only reason the brass continue to tolerate him. He's undoubtedly the best profiler we have. Eccentric to a fault, but in his defence, he survived a nightmare childhood and managed to land on our side of the fence. He could easily have gone either way, but he chose the right side... and he's had some damned difficult choices to make in his life."

"That's a fairly mixed opinion," Jack mused, and Ross smiled wryly.

"I guess it is. He's a good cop, though, Captain Harkness, and as much as he drives me crazy, I would not like to lose him from my squad. In his case, the benefits really do outweigh the headaches."

A grin slowly spread over Jack's face as he realised what Ross was hinting at.

"You think I'd try to poach him from you, Captain Ross?"

Ross returned his gaze steadily.

"Were you intending to try?"

Jack laughed softly.

"I have to admit that it's crossed my mind more than once, but there's someone that I have to answer to, and he wouldn't be happy with me if I tried to expand my team."

Ross raised an eyebrow.

"You actually answer to someone? You mean you don't just run around unchecked, then?"

Jack snorted in amusement.

"You make us sound like schoolkids playing truant. Yes, there is someone I have to answer to... and if this plan we've got goes belly up, then you may yet meet him."

"So, he basically cleans up your messes."

The smile faded rapidly from Jack's face.

"We clean up our own messes, Captain Ross. We don't run around with no responsibility. The Doctor isn't there to clean up after us. He's not my boss. He's a very old friend, and you might say I just defer to him when he _is_ around."

"Friend..." Ross murmured, and then his eyes snapped up to meet Jack's. "Would this be the same friend who abandoned you?"

Jack visibly flinched at the blunt question.

"I said he had his reasons."

"Do you really believe that, Captain?"

For the first time, Jack visibly displayed signs of discomfort, and Ross suddenly wondered just how over it all Jack really was.

"I have to believe it. I lived through a hundred and thirty years on this planet, and the only thing that kept me going was believing that he had a good reason for leaving me behind like he did."

"And did he?"

"For him? Yes, he did. I don't particularly like it, but it can't be changed, so I have to accept it. It's just the way it is."

"You've been through a hell of a lot, haven't you, Captain?" Ross asked quietly, and Jack smiled bitterly.

"You couldn't begin to imagine what I've experienced, Captain Ross."

"No," Ross conceded quietly. "I doubt that I could. I can barely get my head around you being a hundred and seventy years old. I think I'm beginning to appreciate where you're coming from, and please don't take offense, but I'll be very glad when you and your team go back to where you came from."

"Believe me, Captain Ross, so will we."

"All right, then," Ross said. "This plan we have. Can it really work, or are we just kidding ourselves?"

Jack slumped back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face.

"I can't give any guarantees. I'm working on a theory here, and that's why I don't want any of your people at ground zero. If it doesn't work, if something goes wrong, then the only person that I want in the firing line is me."

"This thing... what did you call it?"

"A Grysliaak. Spelt G-R-Y-S-L-I-A-A-K. The 's' is silent."

"Okay. This Grysliaak... Do you know what it wants?"

"Ultimately? To absorb enough energy to take on a host form. Once it's achieved that, it can blend in completely, and it'll be next to impossible to find it. It's fastest way of doing that is through me. I'm an endless supply of living energy."

"You think it might try to take you," Ross realised, feeling a cold lump form in his stomach at the thought.

"It may try," Jack agreed. "If that happens, I really don't want any of your people getting in the way. For their sakes, Captain."

"I understand," Ross murmured. Jack fixed him with a hard stare.

"Just make sure your detectives do, Captain. I don't want their blood on my hands as well."

Ross started a little as he realised Jack was blaming himself for the death of the young officer.

"That was not your fault, Captain," he stated with quiet certainty. "If anyone should be taking responsibility for that, it needs to be me. I should never have allowed Goren and Eames to chase you like that. You warned us, and I ignored it."

Jack uttered a soft sigh. He felt painfully weary all of a sudden.

"I think we all need to shoulder a bit of the blame for that. Your Detective Logan was right. We should have been upfront with you right from the beginning."

Ross paused, considering that for a long moment before speaking again.

"Maybe, Captain, but with all due respect... If you _had_ tried to tell us any of this when you first arrived, I probably would have tried to have all five of you locked up in the psyche ward at Bellevue. We would never have believed you."

The plain and simple logic of Ross's words could not be disregarded, and Jack couldn't help smiling.

"Fair point."

"Look," Ross went on in a more serious tone. "I'll do what I can to impress on my people that they must do exactly what you tell them to do. But ultimately it's going to be up to you. I don't know what your team is used to, but you need to be capable of showing clear leadership. I hope you can do that, Captain Harkness, or you may have a very difficult time; especially with the likes of Bobby Goren, Alex Eames and Mike Logan."

Jack got up slowly and, even as Ross watched, he drew himself up to his full height and all banter and amusement fled his features. His expression darkened, giving rise to something else that Ross could not quite identify. The man who stood before him now was not the same personality who had walked into his office only minutes ago. The man who now stood in front of him was plain terrifying.

"I think I can manage that, Captain Ross," Jack said in a quiet, tense voice, and Ross flinched a little at the mere sound of it.

"Yes," Ross agreed in a soft voice as Jack strode from his office, positively exuding confidence and authority. "I think you probably can."

* * *

Bobby, Mike and Alex were gathered together, talking quietly, when Jack emerged from Ross's office. All three were drawn to stare at him as he strode past, taken aback by the distinct and powerful aura of authority that radiated from him.

Jack walked around until he was in a position where the entire squad could see and hear him. Once he was certain he had their attention, he spoke in a voice that rang out clearly through the squad room.

"You should all be aware by now that the Major Case Squad and Torchwood have made a decision to work together to catch the killer that's out there. I believe that between us, we can stop the killer, and I appreciate your willingness to work with us, despite the way you've all been treated by us."

"Smart," Alex murmured, watching with interest as the other squad members began to set aside their resentment, and really listen to Jack.

"Before we can focus on trapping it, though, there are some things you need to know. They won't be easy for you to accept, but I need you all to at least hear me out. Firstly, the killer is not human."

"You mean it's some sort of animal?" someone wondered, but Jack shook his head.

"No, it's not human, and it's not animal. It's alien."

Silence reigned for several seconds before sniggering bursts of laughter began erupting across the room. Before it could explode fully, though, Ross spoke grimly from where he stood in the doorway of his office.

"It's true. I've seen it with my own eyes."

Startled silence fell as the members of the squad looked back and forth between Ross and Jack. With a nod of acknowledgement in Ross's direction, Jack went on in that same authoritative voice.

"The Major Case Squad and Torchwood will be working together from now on, but it is important for all your sakes that you defer to Torchwood at all times, and specifically to _me_. This killer is nothing like any of you have ever come across before, and there is no need for any of you to put yourselves in danger unnecessarily."

"But you and your team will be," someone called out, audible derision in his voice. Jack smiled, but there was nothing pleasant in that smile.

"That's our job, Detective. It's got nothing to do with being a hero. We're not looking for accolades. I can tell you right now that when this is resolved, it'll be you lot getting the credit for closing it. Not us. We're here to stop the creature that's killing people, and when it's over with we'll disappear again back to where we came from."

"We're not afraid of this thing, Captain," someone else stated fiercely, and Jack nodded.

"I don't doubt that, but there is a big difference between showing courage and being reckless, and I won't take a chance on anyone being reckless. Torchwood is still in charge, and if you want to stay involved, then you'd better damn well do as I tell you. Even if you don't agree with me, you'd better follow my orders or I guarantee you'll be off the case before you can blink."

"No questions asked?" a third voice asked. Jack looked around and his gaze fell on Alex, who had been the one to ask. His expression was hard as he stared at her, and though she didn't look away her discomfort at suddenly being the centre of his focus was blatantly obvious to all.

"No questions asked, Detective Eames," Jack stated flatly. "Don't try me. Not now. I and my people _will_ be at the centre of this, and I won't tolerate them being endangered by any of you who can't follow orders."

Silence met his words. Then, after a long moment, Bobby stood up and spoke in a quiet but firm voice.

"We'll follow your orders, Captain. Just tell us what you need us to do."

* * *

"This is fucking insane."

Jack glanced ruefully at Owen as he tried to work out the calculations that were needed for the trap that he'd designed.

"We really need to talk about your language."

Owen snorted.

"Whatever. It's still nuts. We've got a creature that is practically made of energy, and you want to feed it more? Just where did you come up with this, anyway?"

Jack hesitated, his eyes glazing over just slightly as a memory came back to him of a conversation he'd had with Martha before they'd parted company.

"It was something Martha came up with... during that year. She and a couple of others brought down one of the Toclafane by simulating a lightning strike. It didn't destroy it... but it did more or less paralyse it. The Grysliaak... it survives by steadily feeding off living energy, but I'm hoping that a massive surge of power will at least paralyse it, like it did with the Toclafane."

"You're _hoping_," Ianto said coolly. Jack clenched his jaw in frustration.

"What the hell else am I supposed to do? I don't hear anyone else offering ideas here."

"We're just worried about you, Jack," Gwen pointed out. "What if it doesn't work? What's likely to happen then?"

Jack said nothing, but looked pointedly at Ianto who, in turn, frowned and turned away.

"You do have a back-up plan, don't you?" Tosh pressed, but Jack didn't answer. Ianto answered for him instead.

"Of course he has a back-up plan. He lets the Grysliaak take him. That's his back-up plan."

"Jack…" Gwen started to protest, but was stopped cold when Jack turned a hard look in her direction.

"I don't want it to go that way," he said in a soft, tense voice, and though his words were for the whole team, his focus steadily turned back to Ianto. "I can't begin to tell you how much I don't want it to go that way, but no matter what we do… no matter how careful we are, there's that chance that it could go wrong."

"And if it does go wrong, what then?" Gwen asked. "If this monster takes you, what do we do then?"

"I've given instructions to Ianto for what to do if that happens," Jack answered. "He knows what to do."

Three pairs of eyes shifted to Ianto, but he only had eyes for Jack.

"Jack, please, you don't have to do this. You don't have to put yourself at risk like this."

Jack stared up at Ianto with a pained gaze.

"What other choice is there? You tell me, Ianto. Please, because if you have an alternative, then I'd love to hear it. I really would, because the thought of being captured by that thing is scaring the hell out of me."

Jack's voice broke on the last few words, and the sound of genuine fear in his voice effectively dissipated Ianto's lingering anger. He sat down next to Jack, and closed his hand over the Captain's in a reassuring grip.

"We'll just have to make sure that it doesn't get you, then, won't we?"

"All right," Owen spoke up with a roll of his eyes. "You two can get all cosy later on. Right now we still have to work out how this little trap of ours is going to work."

"Captain Ross is fairly certain that whatever we need can be rigged up by their CSU team," Jack murmured, quietly grateful to Owen for shifting the topic of conversation along. "But I need to work out the right calculations, and then there's the problem of where to set it up."

"Somewhere central," Tosh mused, "where we'll have access to all the power we need. Jack, what about the roof of this building? There's apparently a helipad up there. I overheard someone mention it."

Jack nodded his agreement.

"Good idea, Tosh. That could work… In fact, I think it's probably our best option."

"So the plan is to lure it in, and then electrocute it," Gwen stated quietly, "and probably you, too, in the process."

Jack frowned, sensing the rebuke in her words.

"Unless you have a better idea, Gwen…"

"I wish I did," she admitted ruefully.

"Okay, then," Jack said. He paused, and then abruptly stood up. "Tosh can you keep working on this? We need the exact calculations for simulating a lightning strike."

"Where are you going?" Ianto asked in surprise as Tosh took his place at the desk, and Jack headed for the door.

"Out," Jack answered back in a dull tone. "I need coffee."

And then he was gone.

"Well?" Tosh said finally to Ianto in an impatient tone. "What are you waiting for? Go after him!"

Ianto grimaced, grabbed his coat and hurried after the Captain.

"And don't forget to bring us back coffee as well!" Owen shouted after him.

* * *

Bobby watched wordlessly as Jack exited the squad room, followed soon after by Ianto. After his second encounter with the Grysliaak, Jack was starting to look more than a little worse for wear, and Bobby couldn't help but wonder just how ready for this he was. He was just contemplating following them out himself when a shadow fell across his desk, and he looked up to see Ross standing there.

"Captain…?"

"Do me a favour, you two," Ross said quietly to Bobby and Alex, "and follow Harkness. Assuming he's right, and that… _thing_ really is targeting him exclusively now, it's not safe for him to be going anywhere on his own."

Bobby looked across at Alex, who nodded in wordless agreement. Getting up, Bobby grabbed their coats from the rack, and they hurried out after Jack and Ianto.

* * *

_tbc..._


	14. Springing The Trap

By the time Jack reached the little coffee shop that Bobby had taken him to just a few days ago, Ianto had caught him up and ushered him smoothly into a corner booth before going to order coffee for them both. He was still sitting there, wondering just what he'd done to deserve having someone like Ianto in his life, when Bobby and Alex walked in. They spotted him straight away and he waved them over, motioning to the empty seat opposite him. 

"We won't insult you by trying to tell you that we weren't following you," Bobby said.

"Good," Jack murmured. "I hate being insulted. Any particular reason you're following me now? Because in case you missed the bulletin, we are actually working together now."

Bobby and Alex smiled at each other, and Alex replied in an amused tone.

"We didn't think it was too bright for you to wandering around alone," she said simply. Jack laughed softly at that.

"That's actually kind of sweet, but stupid. You saw what happened this morning." He looked to Bobby grimly, but also not unkindly. "You took it by surprise once, Bobby. It won't let that happen again, and I would hate for anything to happen to you because you don't know when to step back."

"We're pretty good at taking care of ourselves, Captain," Alex told him quietly in defence of her partner. Jack sighed and shook his head.

"Enough of this 'captain' business. It's just Jack."

"All right, then, Jack," Alex responded agreeably. Before she had the chance to say anything further, though, Ianto returned to the booth.

"Hello, Detectives," he greeted them, showing no surprise at their presence. They, however, were surprised when he set a cup of fresh, steaming coffee in front of each of them. "There we go," he went on in a pseudo cheerful tone. "Black and three sugars for you, Detective Eames? And a latte with one sugar for you, Detective Goren?"

"How did you...?" Alex started to ask, baffled. Jack laughed softly, amused by her confusion.

"Don't ask. It's a closely guarded secret that he won't even divulge to me. Just enjoy it."

Alex took a sip, and then sighed contentedly.

"Mm. Thankyou."

Jack smiled affectionately at Ianto as he accepted his own cup, allowing his fingers to brush indulgently over Ianto's hand as he did so. Bobby and Alex couldn't help but notice, and exchanged bemused looks.

"The detectives seem to think it's a bad idea for me to go anywhere alone at the moment," Jack went on, speaking directly to Ianto. The Welshman raised an eyebrow in a quizzical gesture.

"Are you expecting me to tell them it's not?"

Jack shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"What isn't a good idea is for people to be following me everywhere with some noble, if misguided idea of protecting me."

"Well, at least there are no weevils involved this time," Ianto remarked lightly.

"Weevil?" Alex echoed. "That's what that thing was?"

Jack shrugged.

"That's what we call it. We don't really know what they are, or where they came from. They just sort of slipped through into this world. Although, how one ended up here in New York is anyone's guess. We have them in Cardiff because there's a rift in time and space running through the city. It's going to make life very interesting for you lot if it turns out that there's a rift opened up here in New York."

Again, Bobby and Alex exchanged glances, this time in mild trepidation, but opted not to comment on it. Both detectives were strongly of the same opinion that if they never saw another of those creatures again, it would be too soon. Anxious to change the topic of conversation, Bobby blurted out the first thing that entered his mind.

"Have you two been together very long?"

Jack and Ianto both looked at him like a pair of startled rabbits, while Alex rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Sorry," she apologised. "My partner has no tact."

Jack smiled then, amused.

"It's okay. And in answer to your question, Bobby… It's actually a little complicated, but I guess about… eight months."

Ianto nodded his agreement.

"That'd be about right, Sir."

Alex blinked at the young Welshman in astonishment.

"Eight months? You've had a relationship for eight months, and you're still calling him 'sir'?"

"Only when he wants to manipulate me," Jack answered, eyeing Ianto wryly. "But yeah, we've been together since…"

"Since the stopwatch," Ianto reminded him lightly, and a big grin promptly lit up Jack's face.

"Oh yeah. The stopwatch. Whatever happened to that thing, anyway? You haven't brought it out once since I've been home."

"It's tucked away safely. Behave yourself, and I might dig it out when we get home."

"You have the most bizarre relationship I've ever seen," Alex remarked dryly. Jack grinned right back at her.

"Maybe, but nothing about us, or what we do, is standard."

"I suppose it'd never be boring," Bobby mused.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Ianto said. "We still have to deal with the joy of paperwork, and then there's the political side of the job."

"Political?" Bobby echoed, not quite able to keep the distaste out of his voice.

"What Ianto means," Jack explained, "is that we still have to kiss political ass to get the funding we need."

"Which you left me to deal with the last time," Ianto told him reprovingly. Rather than responding with a typical cheesy remark, though, Jack actually paled very slightly.

"I'd only been home a week and a half, and the new Prime Minister demanded to meet me on the goddamn Valiant. I can't go back there. Not ever."

Ianto closed one hand over Jack's, and lifted the other to gently rub his back.

"I know. It's all right, Jack. I understood why you couldn't go back on that ship."

"The Valiant?" Bobby queried. "You mean the UN sky ship?"

Ianto nodded, his gaze still fixed on Jack as he spoke.

"It's all rather complicated, but quite a bit more went on besides our Prime Minister engineering the assassination of your President, and the disappearing. An entire year's worth of events happened, as a matter of fact, and Jack is one of the few who remember it."

"How is that possible?" Alex asked, feeling hopelessly confused. "If a whole year had gone by, I think we'd remember it."

Jack shook his head.

"Time was reversed. No one remembers what happened except for those of us who were on the Valiant at the time. The eye of the storm, he called it. That was us, in the eye of the storm." He sighed softly and gently detached his hands from Ianto's grip to rub them harshly over his face. "It's too long and too complicated to explain properly here and now."

"But that's where you first met up with this creature, isn't it?" Bobby asked suddenly, realisation dawning on his face. "On the Valiant, during the year you say no one else remembers."

Jack stared at Bobby, torn between responding to the detective's deduction, and giving in to a powerful urge to simply get up and walk out. He eventually gave in and decided on the former.

"Yes," he answered softly. "Although, 'met up' isn't exactly how I'd have put it."

"What happened?" Alex asked, utterly serious and completely believing. In her mind, there was no room for doubt. The pained and haunted look in Jack's eyes was one that she recognised only too well.

Jack glanced at Ianto who, in turn, squeezed his shoulder lightly in a reassuring and supportive gesture. Taking a deep breath, Jack spoke softly.

"The year that no one remembers – the year that never was – started the moment your President was killed. Harold Saxon wasn't who he claimed to be, and I don't have the time to explain it to you now. Just… think of the most evil and insane criminal that you've ever had to deal with, and triple it. He had a thing called a paradox machine, and it let him bring this race of creatures from the far future into our present. It slaughtered the people all over the planet. So many died… Whole countries were wiped out."

"And you were on the Valiant the whole time?" Alex asked, barely able to stop herself from making a biting remark about being safe and cosy. Instinct told her that Jack was not the sort of person who would sit back and do nothing unless he really had no choice in the matter. By that time, Jack was looking thoroughly ashen-faced.

"I went to the Valiant with two others to try and stop him. We failed. One of us escaped, but my other friend and I didn't get away. We were captured. I was chained up in the bowels of that damned ship for a whole year, Detective Eames. The Master… That's what he called himself… He was a sadist of the worst possible kind. He loved seeing people suffer, so imagine how excited he was to have his hands on someone who can't be killed, not permanently."

He knew his words were finally sinking in by the pale shades of green and grey that Bobby and Alex had both turned.

"He set the Grysliaak onto you," Bobby guessed.

"Yes," Jack replied simply. "He did. He set it onto me, and let it drain me at least twice a day. It went on for a long time before the Master finally got bored with it. I thought he'd put it off the Valiant, but either he hadn't, or it found a way back on board and it was there somewhere when the paradox machine was destroyed and time reversed itself. It had to have been, because it's the only explanation."

"Only explanation for what?" Alex asked, baffled. Jack looked genuinely sick as he spoke.

"For how it was able to remember me."

"It really did hurt, didn't it?" Alex asked in the gentle tone that she normally reserved for victims. When Jack looked up at her, both she and Bobby were struck to see tears in the other man's eyes.

"Yes, it hurt. I won't say it hurt worse than anything else that was done to me, but I died so many times, and in so many ways. The Master delighted in finding the most agonising ways for me to die. It wasn't just to hurt me, either. It was meant to hurt anyone that he knew cared about me. The Doctor… Tish… Francine and Clive... and even Martha. He broadcasted me being tortured a lot, although I don't know how much of it Martha ever actually saw. A fair bit, I guess, because afterwards she apologised for not taking me with her when she escaped." He shook his head, and uttered a soft, bitter laugh. "She had nothing to be sorry for. I gave her my manipulator so she _could_ escape. If I was worried about myself, I would have teleported the two of us out of there together. If it weren't for Martha, we would never have defeated the Master, and the planet would have been caught in a hell that nothing could have freed it from."

"Why didn't you go with her?" Bobby wondered.

"I couldn't leave him," Jack said. "He needed me. He needed me more than he ever had. I couldn't abandon him."

"So you stayed in a situation where you knew you were going to suffer horribly," Bobby said softly, "for the sake of someone who abandoned you? Because this is the same person we're talking about here, isn't it? The one who abandoned you on that satellite?"

Jack shut his eyes, trying to compose himself before answering. The last thing he needed right then was to have to validate himself… and the Doctor… to someone who really had no understanding at all of the situation. He looked back at Bobby with a grief-stricken stare.

"What do you think I should have done, Bobby? Left him behind, like he left me? I couldn't do that. I don't abandon people that I love."

"You admitted that this guy left you behind like you meant nothing to him," Alex said incredulously. "But you still say you love him? That doesn't make sense. How could you be so blindly loyal to someone who even _you_ admitted doesn't give a damn about you!"

Abruptly, Jack reached across the table and held out a hand to each of the detectives.

"Take my hands," he told them. "Let me show you something."

"Jack…" Ianto spoke up in a soft, warning tone. Jack ignored him, his focus completely on Bobby and Alex.

"Take my hands," he told them again when they both hesitated. "I promise you'll be safe. They're memories that I have to show you. Only memories."

Exchanging wary looks, Bobby and Alex reached out slowly and took Jack's hands in their own. At the last possible instant, Ianto reached out as well and closed his hand over Jack's and Alex's, just as they were pulled into the darkness of Jack's mind.

One moment they were sitting in the warm security of the café, and then the next…

* * *

"_Where the hell are we?" Alex whispered as they all peered around at their unfamiliar surroundings. She flinched as she spoke. Her voice sounded hollow and brittle in her own ears._

"_I believe we are inside the Valiant," Ianto said sombrely. "Or at least, the Valiant from Jack's memories." _

"_Well… where's Jack?" Alex asked, confused. Ianto shrugged._

"_Somewhere here, I imagine. These _are_ his memories."_

_Oblivious to the discussion between Alex and Ianto, Bobby turned slowly, taking in everything that he could – not only in terms of their surroundings, but also the realisation that they were, indeed, inside Jack's mind. He imagined briefly how it probably looked to anyone else in the café – four people sitting and holding hands, completely unresponsive to everything around them_…_The harsh sound of engines and other mechanics broke through his thoughts, and he turned back to look at Ianto._

"_We're in the engineering part of the ship," he guessed, and Ianto nodded, taking on the role of reluctant guide._

"_Yes. I believe this is where Jack was held. The Valiant doesn't have a brig as such; just a few storage cages that the Master had fitted out with beds and converted into cells, according to Jack. But he didn't get that luxury. The Master had him chained up between two pillars. Always on his feet, never allowed to sit down or rest."_

"_Where is he?" Bobby asked tensely, echoing Alex's earlier question. Ianto hesitated, and then pointed down the corridor as an unpleasant sound reached his ears._

"_That way. Can you hear him?"_

"_Hear what…?" Alex started to ask, only to freeze a moment later as a new sound reached them above the noise of the engine. "Oh my god…"_

_Slowly, they became aware of the sounds of muffled, agonised sobs coming from down around the far corner of the corridor. They rapidly escalated into anguished screams of pain, only to fade away again into pitiful moans. Bobby started walking towards the sound, to be stopped only briefly by Ianto's hand on his arm._

"_It's not going to be a pleasant sight."_

_Bobby gently detached himself from Ianto's grip and walked down the corridor and around the corner, with Alex right behind him. After just a moment's hesitation, Ianto followed in heavy silence._

_The sight that met them was worse than any of them could have imagined – even Ianto, who had been better prepared for what was awaiting them than either Bobby or Alex. _

_Around the corner, chained up between two pillars and locked securely behind a cage door, was Jack. He was a mess, and there didn't seem to be any part of him that didn't display evidence of the violent abuse he'd suffered. Behind Bobby, Alex gave a strangled sob at the terrible vision, while both Bobby and Ianto appeared fixed to the spot in horror._

"_He was beaten and tortured within an inch of his life, literally," Ianto explained softly once he'd found his voice, even as he recalled Jack's story from just a few nights ago. "But instead of letting him die, he said the Master healed him just enough so that he wouldn't die. He discovered that as long as his injuries aren't life-threatening, he heals at a slower rate. Faster than average, but still slower. So he was left alive, like this… but worse than that, the Master ordered him to be completely isolated. No contact at all with any living thing. He wasn't allowed to see another person, or hear another voice… nothing. In the end, that's what truly broke him."_

_As they watched Jack lifted his head a little and moaned again. This time, words were audible, though slightly garbled by lips that were little more than bloodied pulp._

"_Please… someone… anyone… Please, just talk to me… Please… Let me hear a voice."_

_But there was nothing. The silence was overwhelming. _

"_Please…" Jack whispered again before the despair overcame him once more and he broke down, sobbing wretchedly into the oppressive silence. _

"_Oh god, Jack," Ianto said, overcome with horror. Before he could say anything more, though, their surroundings suddenly blurred and shifted, and when it cleared again, they were presented with another view of the imprisoned Jack._

_Apart from the blood and grime that was evident on his face and body, he seemed to be completely healed, but it wasn't the lack of injuries that their collective attention was drawn to. It was his utter lack of life. As they watched, Jack simply stood there, head slightly bowed and eyes glazed and unseeing._

"_He's catatonic," Bobby said. _

"_He told me about this," Ianto told them heavily. "He said that above all else, he couldn't take the isolation. That in the end, his mind just snapped."_

_Footsteps drew their attention, and they looked around as a new figure strode around the corner and up to the locked cage._

"_Isn't that Saxon?" Alex asked hoarsely._

"_Not Saxon," Ianto corrected her. "The Master. Harold Saxon was a fabrication. He never really existed."_

"_Open it up," the Master demanded impatiently, his eyes fixed on the unresponsive figure of his prisoner. "Now! Get it open!"_

_A guard rushed to unlock it, and the Master strode up to his prisoner and peered at him. _

"_Jack? Wakey wakey, handsome Jack." _

_Nothing. The Master frowned and grabbed hold of Jack's face in a vicious grip that would have made anyone else cry out. There was no reaction at all from Jack, though. He just continued to stare blankly ahead, unresponsive and lost._

_Still frowning, the Master activated his laser screwdriver and fired it into Jack's shoulder. Still no response. He adjusted the setting and held it up to scan Jack's forehead. _

"_Minimal brain activity," he murmured. "You're not faking it. You really are gone, aren't you?" After a long moment, the Master snapped his fingers. "Bring him in here."_

_A moment later a guard appeared, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. _

"_That's him, isn't it?" Bobby asked softly. "That's Jack's friend."_

"_The Doctor, yes," Ianto confirmed. "The Master apparently aged him by a hundred years to render him helpless."_

_Silence fell again as they watched the unfolding scene._

"_Jack_…_" the Doctor whispered, stricken by the sight of his friend. The Master looked solemn enough, but the glee in his voice was unmistakable as he spoke._

"_See what you're responsible for, Doctor? Your precious, immortal Jack, reduced to nothing but a shell." He reached up and rapped his knuckles none too gently against Jack's head. "What is it that humans say? The lights are on, but nobody's home."_

_Tears spilled down the Doctor's face. Seeing Jack in this state was more than he could bear._

"_I know," the Master purred delightedly, in a deceptively gentle and sympathetic tone. "So much loss, and now I've managed to take one more thing away from you." He laid a hand briefly on the Doctor's shoulder and squeezed, causing the Doctor to wince in pain. "I'm feeling generous today. You can have five minutes alone with him."_

_The Master strode out, signalling the guards to follow. Left alone, the Doctor struggled out of the wheelchair and shuffled slowly towards Jack. As soon as he was close enough, he reached out to cradle Jack's face tenderly in his frail, trembling hands._

"_Come back. Come back to me, Jack."_

_He shut his eyes and concentrated, delving deep into the mind of his friend, searching for some sign of consciousness. He pulled out again only moments later, filled with dismay. Jack's mind was empty. There was nothing there to come back; nothing left for the Doctor to reach._

_Tears flooded the Doctor's eyes, and he stumbled backwards and collapsed into the wheelchair, sitting down with a heavy and unceremonious thud._

"_I'm sorry," he whispered, grief-struck. "I'm so sorry, Jack."_

_The Doctor sat there for another minute or so before he regained some semblance of control, and got to his feet once more. _

"_I'm so sorry, Jack," he said again. He reached out to gently thumb away some of the grime that was caked onto Jack's face. "But wherever you are now, he can't hurt you anymore… and neither can I." The Doctor paused, remembering another goodbye between Jack and himself, so long ago now. Leaning in close, he pressed his aged lips to Jack's blood-caked ones in a chaste but still tender kiss. "You are worth fighting for, Jack Harkness. Be at peace, wherever you are." He paused, and then added in a choked voice, "I love you, Jack."_

_He waited, hoping irrationally that somehow his words might have broken through, and that Jack might blink, or do some small thing to show that he was still in there somewhere, but there was nothing. Not a single flicker._

_The Doctor had just enough time to cup Jack's cheek tenderly once more, and whisper a heartbroken goodbye before the Master returned and took him away from Jack again._

* * *

"_How the hell did he recover from this?" Alex wondered as she stared at Jack's passive and unresponsive features. As she spoke, though, their surroundings blurred again, and then cleared to reveal a new figure in their midst. Neither Bobby nor Alex knew who she was, but Ianto did. He had never met her, never seen her before, but he knew who she was, all the same._

"_Tish," he whispered, and silence fell as they watched this new scene unfold before them._

* * *

_Tish approached Jack slowly, taking in his empty eyes and slack features with quiet grief. It had been three days since the Doctor had told her and her parents that Jack's mind was gone, apparently beyond any hope of recovery. That the man that the Master still kept cruelly chained up in the bowels of the ship was only a shell, and nothing more._

_Her mother had been the first to see what the Master's cruelty had wrought when she'd been sent to feed him. She had come back in tears, confirming what the Doctor had said. Jack was gone. The man still chained up in the Valiant was only an empty shell. _

_Then her father had been sent down there, to clean up the mess left by some drunken guards who had decided it was good sport to belt into a man who wasn't even aware he was being beaten. His report had been the same. Jack was unaware and completely unresponsive. He was, indeed, gone._

_Tish had subjugated herself the very next morning, begging the Master for the favour of letting her go and spend some precious time with the Captain. The Master had let her beg for close to an hour before refusing and ordering her back to her cell._

_And so, in the end, she'd come in stealth. In return for a promised favour, the night duty guard had taken her from her cell and down to where Jack was. He could promise her half an hour at the most, and then she would have to return to the cell. She'd tried to kiss him, to show she meant to keep her side of the bargain, but the guard had gently refused. _

_It was reassuring to him, he'd told her quietly, that she cared enough about Jack to take a risk like this for him. He'd witnessed the nightmare that Jack had been forced to endure, and anyone wanting to offer him any help and comfort was worth taking a chance on._

_Now, Tish walked up to Jack and stared up at him. His eyes were open, but staring sightlessly ahead. Tish stared at him sadly, considering her options. In the end, though, she could think of only one thing that she could do. Stepping up close to him, Tish slipped her arms around Jack's inert form and hugged him tightly._

"_We love you, Jack," she whispered even as the tears came in a flood. "Please don't leave us. Not like this."_

_Minutes ticked by. Tish continued to hold him while she sobbed out her own grief. She was so lost in her own despair that she almost missed it when Jack suddenly drew in a shaky, ragged breath and shifted his weight just slightly from one foot to the other._

_Slowly, she pulled back from him and looked up, hardly daring to hope. When her eyes were met by a pair of pale blue ones that reflected a renewed life, though, she didn't even try to contain the relieved sobs that were fighting for release._

"_Why the tears, beautiful?" Jack asked hoarsely._

"_Thought we'd lost you," she said, her voice sounding muffled against his chest. Jack craned his head down so that he could place a soft kiss on the top of her head, before resting his cheek there. _

"_Not going anywhere," he promised softly. And then, after a long silence, "Thankyou."_

_Tish looked genuinely puzzled._

"_For what?"_

_It was then that she felt something dampen the top of her head, and when she looked up at him, she was startled to see tears rolling down his cheeks._

"_For holding me," he told her. "Just for holding me."_

_Helpless to stop her own tears now, Tish wrapped her arms around Jack once more, and held him tightly._

"_I've got you," she whispered. "I've got you, Jack_…_"_

* * *

_Ianto felt a wetness on his cheeks, and started to brush the tears away self-consciously until he saw that Bobby and Alex were in much the same state. _

_Their surroundings blurred once more, and this time faded entirely. It seemed Jack was not done with them yet, though, for when they looked around them, it was at entirely new surroundings._

"_Where are we now?" Alex wondered. Ianto thought he knew, but said nothing of his suspicions. As open-minded as the detectives were, he suspected it might be stretching the limits a little to tell them they were currently on a spaceship belonging to an alien life form._

_Gradually, voices filtered down the corridor to them, and together they walked towards them, eventually coming out into what looked like a control room of some sort._

_There was Jack, along with the woman that Ianto had identified as Tish, and four others._

"_Him there," Bobby said suddenly, his gaze fixed on a tall, somewhat lanky man in a long coat. "That's him, isn't it? The one that Saxon… I mean, the Master brought to see Jack?"_

_Ianto nodded, his breath quickening at the sight of a man on whom he had laid eyes only once before. _

"_Yes. The Doctor. I'm not entirely sure, but I think that woman there is Martha Jones. She travelled with the Doctor for a year… and those are her parents, Clive and Francine."_

_They fell quiet, watching as the Jones family indulged in one big group hug, while the Doctor and Jack stood back and watched. The Doctor, more specifically, was watching Jack, while Jack watched the Jones family._

_Eventually, the family broke apart and Martha walked over to hug the Doctor fiercely. Jack shifted uncomfortably, and was just starting to back away when Francine approached him._

"_Jack, look at you," she said with gentle affection. "You're a mess, honey. What you need is a good long bath."_

"_Are you offering to scrub my back?" he asked with a cheeky grin. Francine smiled back at him sadly. She took no offence at his words, for behind the grin and the flirtatious comment, there was a world of pain that was clearly visible to anyone who bothered to look. Reaching up, Francine patted his cheek gently._

"_Come here, sweetheart."_

_And then she pulled him into a long and affectionate embrace. When she finally released him, her eyes were red once more with unshed tears._

"_Go on, now. Go and wash off that dirt. I want to see that handsome face of yours all lovely and clean."_

_Jack blinked, and looked down at his hands in sudden bewilderment, as though he was seeing the filth that covered him for the first time. _

"_See?" Clive joked lightly with him. "Better go before the ladies decide to turn the hose on you, boy."_

_Even through the grime that covered him, they were able to see the ashen colour that his face had turned. Without a word, and with a genuinely anguished look on his face, Jack turned and stumbled from the room._

"_I'm sorry," Clive stammered in dismay, though he didn't understand what he had said or done to garner that reaction. "I didn't mean to…"_

"_It's okay, Dad," Martha told him gently. And then, to the Doctor, "Go after him. He needs you. We'll be okay."_

_For once, the Doctor didn't argue. He knew she was right. Looking grim, the Doctor went after the Captain._

* * *

_And then, suddenly, they found themselves no longer in the control room, but in a bedroom of sorts. Jack was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up tightly to his chest, and he didn't seem to be consciously aware of anything around him._

_The door slid open, and the Doctor walked in, his gaze quickly finding Jack. For a long moment he just stood there, observing Jack in silence. Finally, he walked over and crouched down in front of the Captain._

"_Jack. Look at me, Jack."_

_Slowly, Jack responded and he lifted his head to meet the Doctor's gaze. _

"_Why?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. _

"_Why what, Jack?"_

"_Why do we have to remember?"_

_The Doctor was still trying to decide how best to answer that when Jack went on in a broken voice. _

"_I asked him... The Master, I mean... I asked him if I could have some water to clean up. This was early on. He sent men down to me with a high-powered hose. F... First time I'd ever died from suffocation and drowning at the same time. I never asked again."_

"_I'm sorry..."_

"_Stop saying that!" Jack exploded. "Stop saying you're sorry! It wasn't your fault, and I'm sick of hearing you apologise for him!"_

"_What do you want me to say?" the Doctor asked, feeling so horribly tired all of a sudden. Jack stared back at him pleadingly._

"_Tell me it wasn't all for nothing. Please... just tell me there was a reason for it all."_

_Gently, the Doctor slipped his arm around behind Jack, and pulled him in close, speaking softly into his ear. _

"_For you personally, Jack, I can give you four very good reasons. Gwen Cooper. Toshiko Sato. Owen Harper. And most of all for you, Ianto Jones. Because of what we went through, they're all still alive. Is that enough of a reason for you, Captain?"_

_Jack broke down, then, sobbing heavily into the Doctor's shoulder. _

"_We saved their lives, Jack. __**You**__ saved their lives. They may never know it, but that's not what's important. What is important is that you know it wasn't for nothing. It was for __**everything**__."_

_Though Jack continued to weep into the Doctor's shoulder, the tone of his sobs changed just slightly, losing the guttural tone. The Doctor continued to cradle Jack to him, at times placing feather-soft kisses of reassurance on Jack's hair. Then, once his sobs finally began to ease, the Doctor spoke again._

"_I am going to say sorry for one more thing, Jack, and I want you to hear me out before you argue with me. I am sorry that I left you behind on Satellite Five. I am sorry that I never went back for you, and I so sorry for leaving you alone through all those years. I've failed my companions before, but I'd never betrayed any of them until you, and I am so, __**so**__ sorry for that."_

_Jack was quiet for a moment, wondering how to answer that. Finally, he could think of only three words, and he spoke them in a trembling whisper._

"_I forgive you."_

_It was the Doctor's turn to shed a tear or two, then. _

"_Thankyou," he whispered gratefully. Then, "I said something to you on the Valiant, Jack, but you weren't exactly lucid at the time. I'm going to say it again now, and I want you to look at me so that you know I'm telling you the truth."_

_Slowly, Jack pulled back enough so that he could look the Doctor in the eye._

"_What did you want to say?"_

"_I love you, Jack," the Doctor told him softly. "I always have, right from the moment you stopped that bomb from dropping on us during the London Blitz. And I love you even more for know you were willing to die for me... On Satellite Five, but also during that year. I know you could have escaped with Martha, and I would not have thought worse of you if you had. But you didn't, you chose to stay, for me. You knew what he was likely to do to you, but you still stayed. I loved you so much more for that. So whatever happens from now on, I don't ever want you to doubt how much I love you. Do you undestand me, Captain Harkness?"_

_A weak but genuine smile lifted the corners of Jack's lips. _

"_I love you, too, Doctor," he whispered tearfully. "Always have, always will."_

* * *

The scene faded out, and the last thing they saw as it went black was a touching image of Jack being held tenderly in the embrace of his Doctor.

Bobby, Alex and Ianto emerged back into the present with simultaneous gasps. While Bobby and Alex sat in stunned silence, Ianto turned to Jack with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Jack stared back at him, his expression pained.

"Now do you..."

Whatever he had been about to ask was lost as Ianto all but dove forward in and thrust his mouth against Jack's, in an emotion-charged kiss.

"I never realised," Ianto whispered when they finally broke apart. "I mean, you told me, but I don't think I understood until now how terrible it really was. Jack, I'm sorry..."

"Please, don't apologise," Jack pleaded with him. "I'm so tired of hearing people say they're sorry." He reached out and brushed his fingers lightly against Ianto's cheek, and allowed them to trail over his lips before smiling sadly at the younger man and turning his attention back to Bobby and Alex. "What about you two? Do you understand now?"

"Yes," Bobby answered for them both. His voice sounded hoarse and not entirely steady. "We understand. Thankyou for letting us see that. It can't have been easy for you."

A bitter smile touched Jack's lips. That was a very big understatement, but he chose not to say anything in reply. Instead, he shifted in the booth, suddenly anxious to get moving again.

"I think we've beengone long enough. What say we head back before someone else gets sent after me?"

The other three nodded their agreement and, together, they got up and exited the cafe.

* * *

"This Doctor," Alex said as they headed back to One Police Plaza. "Could he help?"

Jack was silent for a long moment before responding.

"I'm really hoping we don't find ourselves in a situation where we have to ask, Detective Eames."

"So... he _could_ help," Alex pressed. "Why don't you contact him?"

He swung around to face her, his expression hard.

"It's not ego, if that's what you're suggesting. Getting in touch with the Doctor isn't as easy or as simple as that, and for the record, I do have a back-up plan, if things don't go to plan."

Alex raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to explain. Jack stared at her for several seconds before looking at Bobby in frustration.

"Is she always this persistent?"

A grin broke out across Bobby's face.

"Worse, and I wouldn't want her any other way."

Shaking his head in aggravation, Jack conceded and exlained.

"I've given instructions to Ianto. If things go wrong..."

"And by that, he means if the Grysliaak takes him, rather than us taking it," Ianto put in blandly, deliberately ignoring the exasperated look that Jack threw in his direction.

"If things don't go to plan," Jack went on, "then Ianto has instructions to call a friend of mine, Martha Jones."

"Martha..." Bobby murmured. "The same Martha from your memory?"

Jack nodded curtly.

"Yes. He's to call her and give her a message."

"And what's this message?" Alex persisted. Jack frowned, but Ianto spoke quietly in her defense.

"It's actually quite sensible, sir, to tell someone else. You know... in case something goes wrong."

Jack favoured Ianto with a look that quite clearly said '_I'll deal with you later_'.

"I told Ianto to tell her 'the Captain needs his Doctor', and also 'Grysliaak'. She'll know what to do from there. She'll know how to reach the Doctor."

"You can't just call him?" Alex asked, and Jack had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"You ask a lot of questions, Detective."

She smiled tightly at him.

"That's what I do, Captain."

He couldn't help but smile in response to her attitude. As annoyed as he felt, he was also starting to like her immensely. She was tough and smart, but still connected to her own humanity, not unlike Gwen. He decided to answer as they began to walk again.

"No, I can't just call him. You might say that's Martha's privilege. No, if we need him... _If_ we need him, Martha will contact him. Please don't ask me anything else, because I can't tell you."

Alex appeared on the cusp of arguing, but Bobby's hand on her shoulder silenced her.

"It's okay. We trust you, Jack."

He nodded.

"I hope so."

* * *

They turned down the laneway that would take them through to One Police Plaza, walking in silence. They were nearly halfway along when Jack slowed to a halt, and looked around tensely.

"Jack?" Ianto asked quietly. "What is it?"

Jack turned around slowly, not responding to Ianto's question. Instead, he spoke in a soft, tense and increasingly fearful voice.

"Can't you feel it? In the air... all around..."

Bobby looked around at Alex, and his breath caught a little. Her hair was starting to lift up with rapidly building static electricity.

"It's here..." he said.

"Run!" Jack yelled, but before any of them had the chance to do just that, Jack and Ianto's earpieces suddenly blew, causing both of them to shout in pain and shock. Simultaneously, Bobby and Alex's cell phones and radios burned out from an overload of electricity, forcing both detectives to throw the devices away in pain.

Frightened and disoriented, Jack spun around, at the same time reaching for his gun. As he turned, though, a shadow reared up before him and something semi-solid collided with his body and face. The force of the blow lifted him clean off his feet and sent him flying through the air and into the brick wall on the other side of the lane. He felt something go in his back as he hit the wall, and crumpled to the ground in a useless heap.

"Jack!" Ianto shouted, and ran to the Captain's side, as Bobby and Alex drew their weapons and circled around to place themselves squarely between Jack's prone body, and the monster that was advancing on him.

"Stop," Bobby demanded in a steady voice that belied the fear he was feeling. "Stay where you are, or we will shoot you."

The Grysliaak laughed cruelly.

"You can't stop me. Get out of my way, or I'll take your energy as well as Jack's."

"You're not taking anyone's energy," Alex snapped. "Now, _back off_!"

"Feisty," it hissed. "I like that, but I don't have the time to deal with you now."

It swept towards the detectives, and Alex found herself thrown through the air much like Jack only seconds before. She landed on concrete, her head striking the ground with an ugly crack, knocking her out cold.

Bobby barely had time to register the fact that his partner had been taken right out of the equation before he too was struck and sent flying. He landed virtually next to Jack, and was still recovering from the shock when the Grysliaak's shadow fell over himself, Jack and Ianto.

"I know what you're planning," it told them. "It's not going to work. I'm here to offer you a deal, Jack, a deal that will save the lives of all your team... of all those police. Come with me, Jack. Come willingly, and I'll let them all live."

Jack stared up at the Grysliaak, unable to reply for the blood that was welling up in his throat from the lung that had been punctured by a broken rib. The monster bent down towards him, grinning hideously.

"What do you say? Your life for theirs?"

"No!" Ianto burst out. The Grysliaak snarled inhumanly at Ianto.

"Stay out of this. It's his choice."

Ianto glared balefully back at it, his hands still protectively on Jack.

"You take him, then you take me as well."

Jack's body jerked, and he opened his mouth as though to protest, but all that came out was thick, red rivers of blood. A vicious grin spread across the Grysliaak's semi-formed features, creating a grotesque countenance that made it look like it belonged in a Freddy Kreuger film rather than a nondescript laneway in present day New York.

"Emergency rations. I like that..."

Ianto had no time to utter a sound as the monster lunged towards them, arms outstretched.

* * *

Alex awoke with a groan, and a pounding head. For a while she lay still, not sure that she had either the strength or the inclination to even attempt to move. Before too long, though, instinct kicked in and her somewhat muzzy thoughts slowly began to put themselves back in order. What had happened, she wondered, and got her answer a moment later as she recalled the ominous and monstrous shadow that had attacked them. It had sent her flying, and after that, there was nothing.

She groaned again, and started to push herself up. Nothing seemed to be broken, thank God for small miracles. She could taste blood in her mouth, though, and she suspected that she'd bitten her tongue on impact with the ground. If that was the worst of it, though, then maybe this Grysliaak wasn't as tough as Jack had made it out to be...

Her thoughts derailed as she finally staggered to her feet and looked to where she had known her three companions to be. There was nothing there now except for blood, three guns and a gold detective's shield.

"No," Alex whispered in sudden, biting panic. "No... Please, no..."

She staggered over for a closer look, but it only confirmed her fears. The Grysliaak was gone, and it had taken Jack, Ianto and Bobby with it.

Driven by fear and adrenalin, Alex scooped up Bobby's badge in trembling hands, and stumbled back towards One Police Plaza to get help.

* * *

_tbc... _


	15. At A Loss

Mike was sitting at his desk, with his feet propped up on the edge when Owen came to a halt, eyeing him critically.

"You know," he said tersely, "this whole joint operation aside, we still owe you for punching Jack."

Mike looked up at Owen nonchalantly.

"Just like we owe you for him punching Captain Ross."

Owen grunted.

"Yeah, well, he deserved it."

"So did Harkness," Mike shot back without hesitation.

It took some effort for Owen not to crack a smile at that.

"Maybe he did," he conceded.

"Yeah," Mike said flatly. "He did. He's a pompous, egotistical bastard."

"He's not really an arrogant git," Owen offered in his captain's defence. "He just acts like he is."

Mike eyed Owen in open amusement.

"You know, you're not really helping his case much."

Owen paused, and then leaned down to speak in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"Just between us, he got it a lot worse from us a couple of months ago."

Mike raised an eyebrow at the young doctor.

"You're saying you hit him, too?"

Owen grinned, but it was humourless in its quality.

"Nah, Gwen hit him. _I_ shot him."

Silence met the confession, and Mike couldn't quite work out whether the other man was serious.

"You... shot him?"

"Point blank, in the head, and twice in the chest."

Mike grunted.

"Okay. Not exactly terminal for him."

Owen shrugged.

"Didn't know that when I shot him."

Slowly, Mike sat up in his chair as the implications of Owen's words sank in.

"You shot your captain, _not_ knowing that he was going to come back to life?"

"That's right."

"Huh. Remind me not to piss you off."

"All I'm saying," Owen told him, "is that you're not the first to get pissed at him, and you won't be the last."

Mike started to nod in understanding, when his phone rang. Frowning in annoyance at the interruption, he picked it up.

"Logan."

Owen started to turn away when Mike suddenly swore and launched himself to his feet.

"How bad is she hurt? ...Shit. And she came in alone? Goren wasn't with her? ...What about the two Torchwood guys? ...Yeah, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones. Goren and Eames followed them out earlier... Ah, crap. Well, have you called a bus? ...Okay. I'll be right down."

"What's going on?" Owen asked tensely as Mike virtually threw his phone down and started out of the squad room."

"Alex just came back. She collapsed just inside the lobby. Looks like she took a pretty bad blow to the head, according to the guy who just called me."

"What about Jack and Ianto?" Owen demanded, but Mike shook his head.

"No sign of them, or of Bobby, either. Alex came back alone."

"Fuck," Owen hissed. He followed Mike to the elevators, yelling for his two remaining colleagues as they went. Gwen and Tosh came in a hurry, drawn by the urgency in Owen's voice.

"What's going on?" Gwen asked.

"We've got trouble," Owen told them grimly. The elevator door slid open as they got there, to reveal an ashen-faced Captain Ross, who was on his way back down from a meeting with the Chief of Detectives.

"Captain..." Mike started to say.

"I know, Logan. I'm on my way down there. C'mon, all of you."

"What's going on?" Tosh asked, starting to feel frightened. Ross answered grimly.

"I sent Goren and Eames out after Captain Harkness and Mr Jones. I didn't think it was such a wise idea for him to be wandering around alone with that thing gunning for him. Eames just came back alone, with an apparently severe head wound."

"Oh god," Gwen moaned as realisation hit fast. "Jack..."

"We have three of our people unaccounted for, Miss Cooper," Ross said grimly. "Not just Captain Harkness."

* * *

Upon emerging into the lobby, it wasn't hard to find Alex. She was on the ar side of the lobby, surrounded by a veritable gaggle of cops, while paramedics examined the blow to her head. Ross led the way, and the crowd parted before him like Moses parting the Red Sea.

"Eames?" he asked, coming to a halt in front of her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "Just a little dizzy."

Ross looked to the paramedic beside her for confirmation, and was quietly dismayed when the young man shook his head.

"She took a very bad blow to the head, Captain. We're going to need to take her to Mt Sinai for scans. At the least, she has a severe concussion. She'll probably have to stay overnight..."

That garnered a reaction from the downed detective.

"The hell I will!" she exploded, and tried to wrench herself free. Ross acted swiftly, and crouched down to be able to look her in the eye.

"Eames! Listen to me, Detective. This is not negotiable. You will go to the hospital and let yourself be taken care of, even if that means an overnight stay. You will be no use to your partner if you don't."

Distress filled Alex's face at that.

"Bobby... He was gone, Captain. When I woke up, they all were..."

"Captain, we need to get her to the hospital."

Ross glanced up at the paramedics.

"Just give us a few minutes, guys? This is important." He went on without waiting for an answer. "All right, Eames, talk to me. What happened?"

Alex drew in a shuddering breath, forcing herself to remember what had happened.

"We were coming back from the cafe. We cut down Miller's Lane. It happened when we were about half way along. Jack stopped... and then we could all feel it... like a powerful electrical storm. And then it was there. It went straight for Jack... threw him clean across the lane. I think he must have been pretty badly hurt, because he didn't get back up, and there was blood... There was a hell of a lot of blood. Bobby and I tried to stop it, but it was too powerful. We couldn't stop it. I remember being thrown aside, and then there's nothing. When I woke up, they were gone. All of them."

"Bloody hell," Owen whispered in horror. "The fucker took all three of them."

Ross glanced at Owen in disapproval, but said nothing.

"What the hell do we do now?" Mike said, feeling helpless, and hating it. Ross turned his focus to the one thing at hand that he had control of.

"Eames, I want you to go and get yourself seen to at the hospital. No arguments, understand? If they want you to stay overnight, then that's what you'll do. I'll have someone from the squad go with you."

"Never mind that," Owen said gruffly. "I'll go with her. Never know what sort of quacks you might run into in an emergency room."

Ross couldn't quite conceal his surprise, and he looked quizzically at Alex.

"Eames? Are you okay with that?"

Alex hesitated for a long moment before answering affirmatively. She took care not to nod her head, only too aware of how much that would hurt.

"It's okay with me. Thankyou."

"All right," Ross said grimly. "The rest of you, we have a crime scene to look at."

* * *

"Why did you offer to come with me?" Alex asked as the ambulance carried them towards Mt Sinai. Owen regarded her soberly.

"Your partner was taken, too."

"And that complicates things," Alex said with a touch of bitterness. Owen, however, only shrugged.

"I didn't mean it like that, but yeah. It does. As you're very much aware, the consequences could be vastly different for your partner and for Ianto, as opposed to Jack."

Alex chose not to think too hard on that.

"You haven't answered my question," she said, shifting back to the original subject.

Owen nodded with a hint of impatience, as though he had been getting to that.

"We're all part of the same team now, Detective Eames. When your partner was taken, it was one of our own that... _it_ took. Same goes for you. I'd do this for any of our team. You're a part of the team, so here I am. Simple, really."

Alex smiled faintly. Before she could respond, though, the paramedic sitting beside her spoke firmly.

"Detective Eames, please, I need you to let go of that."

She looked down at the item in her hands with a frown.

"What...? Oh..."

Owen leaned in for a closer look, and quickly realised what the paramedic was talking about. Alex was still clutching Bobby's blood-stained badge in her hands in a death grip.

"Whose blood?" he asked, not entirely sure that he wanted to know.

"Jack's," Alex murmured. "At least, I think it's Jack's. God, I hope it's Jack's…" She trailed off, looking up at Owen uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. That was a lousy thing to say."

Owen, however, smiled reassuringly at her.

"It's okay. I know what you meant. I hope it's his, too."

Alex slumped back on the gurney in a growing daze as Owen gently relieved her of her partner's badge, giving the paramedic leave to do whatever it was that he needed to do.

"God, let him be okay," she whispered, distraught. "Let all of them be okay."

Owen said nothing, but silently offered up the same prayer.

* * *

Ross led the way to the scene, with Mike, Gwen and Toshiko in tow. He resisted the instinctive urge to call CSU, knowing full well that their presence would only be a hindrance anyway. It didn't take long to locate the right spot. The blood and the three abandoned weapons were a fair giveaway. He stood observing the scene with grim and practised eyes.

"Blood seems to be just the one lot," Mike remarked sombrely. "From just the one person."

"From Jack," Gwen said with a touch of distress in her voice.

"Hey, shouldn't we be getting CSU out here?" Mike asked as Ross leaned down to collect the blood-spattered weapons. The captain regarded Mike quizzically.

"Why, Logan? What could they do, except slow things down? And all else aside, given what we now know about Captain Harkness, I didn't think the last thing we need is to be giving CSU a chance to analyse his blood. That would raise more questions than any of us are able or willing to answer."

Mike grimaced as the truth of Ross's words hit home.

"Good point," he conceded. "Which leaves the next question. What the hell do we do now? Not only does that... _thing_ have what it wants now, but it's taken the one guy who might've been able to figure out where it's been hiding out!"

Ross turned abruptly to look at the women, not caring to let Mike see his irritation at the inference that Bobby was the only one with the smarts to work it out.

"Captain Harkness mentioned someone that he answers to. An old friend of his, he said, who might be able to help if things went badly here. Do either of you know who he was talking about? Because he never gave a name. He just called him... uh... damn it, I can't remember now..."

Gwen and Tosh exchanged baffled looks.

"We don't know," Tosh admitted helplessly. "Jack doesn't answer to anyone."

However, realisation suddenly dawned on Gwen's face. There was one person that Jack would willingly answer to – someone that he would leave behind everything and travel to the end of the universe itself for.

"The Doctor," she said quickly, and Ross nodded.

"That's it! That's what he called him. The Doctor! Who is he?"

Gwen could only shrug, though.

"He's just the Doctor. I don't know if he has another name. Jack's never mentioned it if he does. But the Doctor is the only person that Jack would accept orders from."

"All right," Ross conceded. "How do we go about contacting this Doctor?"

At that, both women's faces fell.

"We don't know," Gwen admitted miserably. "He's not exactly got a steady address."

"Wonderful," Ross muttered as he pulled out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" Mike wondered.

"Calling a clean up crew to deal with this."

"You know the Chief of Detectives is going to find out that you covered up a crime scene," Mike pointed out wryly. "He'll have your ass in a sling, Captain."

"My ass is covered, Detective," Ross replied dryly. "We're acting under Torchwood's directive. They're the prevalent authority on the scene. Right, Miss Cooper?"

Gwen nodded, looking pale but certain as she realised what Ross was trying to do.

"That's right. This is our responsibility. You're only doing as we ask."

A grateful smile flickered across Ross's face, and then he was engrossed in the phone call. Mike turned back to Gwen and Tosh, and he suspected that the distress he could see in their faces was mirrored in his own.

"Seriously, what now?" he asked. "We've just hit one hell of a brick wall, and there are three lives at stake. Or two, at least, if you count the fact that your boss is invincible."

"Three lives," Gwen snapped, in no mood for his attitude. "You saw what happened. You saw what that thing did to Jack. The fact that he can't die just makes it all the more worse for him, because he'll keep coming back to the same torment again and again."

Mike didn't flinch in the face of her anger.

"I'll say it again. What the hell do we do now?"

"We must have some information on this thing," Gwen said to Tosh with rapidly growing anxiety.

"But I already looked!" Tosh insisted. "When Jack first said what it was, I searched for anything we had on, and there was nothing at all in our system!"

"Bloody hell," Gwen whispered, running her fingers through her hair in agitation.

"I think," Ross said as he ended his phone call, "that we'd better head back to One Police Plaza. There's nothing more we can do here. Let's go, people."

* * *

They arrived back at the squad room to a deathly silence, as the detectives present waited to learn what had happened. Detective Jackson approached the four of them as they walked back in, acting as an unofficial spokesman for the squad.

"Captain, what's going on? Is it true that Goren's been abducted?"

"Not only Goren," Ross confirmed grimly, "but Captain Harkness and Ianto Jones as well. All three of them were taken in an ambush in Miller's Lane less than an hour ago. And yes, it was the same creature that's been killing people."

"What about Eames?" someone asked, and Ross could hear the mixture of fear and outrage in the man's voice.

"She's safe," he assured them. "She took a back knock to the head, though, and has been taken to the hospital for treatment."

"Shit," someone else again muttered. "So, basically, we're fucked because that idiot from Torchwood got himself, Goren and one of his own people kidnapped."

Behind him, Ross could almost feel Gwen and Tosh bristling in response to the sneering, angry remark. Before either of them had a chance to speak, though, Ross got in first and he spoke in a quiet, but no less fierce tone.

"Do not go there, Geary. Don't any of you go there. What's happened was no one's fault, least of all Captain Harkness. I will not tolerate bickering and laying blame when we have three of our people in very real danger. I don't want to be having to organise three funerals because we were all too busy laying blame than trying to actually deal with the situation!"

The silence that met his words was intense. Finally, though, Jacobson spoke up for all of them.

"We're all in this together, Captain. Just tell us where to start to get them back safely."

At that, Ross looked around at Gwen and Tosh.

"Miss Cooper? Miss Sato? Any suggestions where to start?"

He noted with mild interest that Tosh seemed to defer to Gwen, who appeared somewhat uncomfortable with the authority that had suddenly been foisted onto her.

"Well… We need to try and work out where it's nesting," she said tentatively. "Tosh, call Owen, and ask him to ask Detective Eames whether Jack said anything at all about the Grysliaak before they were ambushed, and then tell him we need him back here as soon as possible. When you've done that, start a city-wide trace for any unusual electrical activity. Captain Ross, can I get one of those whiteboards out here?"

Ross snapped his fingers at the detective closest to him, and the man immediately went to do the task.

"Anything else, Miss Cooper?"

She looked at him grimly.

"Yes. I imagine that now would be rather a good time to start praying."

* * *

Jack awoke to darkness. He was certain that his eyes were open, but all he could see was blackness. Fear clutched at him that may be he was blind – however temporary that state was likely to be. But no. As the minutes ticked by, he came to realise that he wasn't blind at all. He was simply in a very dark room.

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark, and very gradually he became aware of his surroundings. It wasn't a room at all in which he lay, but a cage... a cage, he thought numbly, that was disturbingly similar to the one in which he'd been held on the Valiant. Although, he supposed grudgingly, that at least he wasn't chained to a wall this time. Instead, he realised, he was lying on a hard, cold floor, with his head resting on someone's lap.

"Jack?"

He knew that voice, and while one part of him wanted to weep with relief, another part wanted to strangle the owner. Turning his head a little, he confirmed his fear. Ianto's face hovered above his own, forehead creasing with worry.

Opening his mouth, he croaked out the first thing that came to mind.

"You're fired."

Ianto smiled ruefully.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but I couldn't just sit back and do nothing. I couldn't just let it take you."

"So you let it take both of us. Fantastic."

Ianto hesitated, and Jack felt his stomach drop at the look on his face.

"What?" he asked, suddenly not entirely sure that he really wanted to know.

"I'm afraid it's a little worse than that, Jack. Look."

With some effort, Jack lifted his head and saw where Ianto was indicating. Sitting close by was a somewhat bruised and battered Bobby Goren. Jack felt sick to his gut.

"Please, tell me your partner's not here as well."

Bobby shook his head, and then winced, as though the very movement pained him. Which, Jack mused as he recalled Bobby being thrown violently into the wall, it probably did.

"No, she's not. It didn't take her."

"Then at least there's someone still out there who knows the plan to call Martha," Jack muttered, letting his head drop back onto Ianto's lap. "Let's hope she's got the brains to tell Gwen, Tosh or Owen."

Ianto glanced uneasily at Bobby, but the other man didn't seem to have taken offence at Jack's unintentionally slighting words. Whether that was a result of the mild concussion he had, or simply that he understood what Jack really meant, Ianto had no idea and was not about to ask.

Jack groaned softly, then, and shifted awkwardly.

"So how long was I dead for that time?"

Silence met his words, and Jack looked up at Ianto, feeling a twinge of concern.

"What? What's wrong?" Jack asked sharply.

"Jack... You didn't die this time. It didn't kill you."

The Captain uttered a short laugh at that.

"Really? That makes a change." When Ianto failed to crack a smile, Jack spoke in increasing frustration. "What the hell's the matter? Spit it out, Ianto."

It was Bobby, however, who spoke.

"Can you feel this, Jack?"

Jack looked down the length of his body in confusion, and a moment later an icy chill rushed through him. Bobby had produced a switchblade and had actually pierced the flesh of his bare foot with the blade. Blood trickled down in a thing line as evidence that it was no trick. And he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel a thing below his waist.

As Bobby put away the knife and pressed a handkerchief to the cut, Jack laughed hollowly, with just the slightest tinge of hysteria in his tone.

"This is a first. Never been paralysed before."

"It's not permanent, though," Bobby said. "I mean, it will heal, right?"

"Sure it will. When the Grysliaak kills me next, I'll come back good as new."

"That's the only way?" Bobby asked, and Jack sighed.

"I don't know. Like I said, I've never been paralysed before. It should heal, but I don't know how long it might take, because it's obviously not a mortal wound."

"About that," Ianto said with a frown. "We thought you may have had a punctured lung. You were bleeding from your mouth."

Jack pulled a face as Ianto's words reminded him that he had a distinct taste of blood in his mouth.

"I bit my tongue," he said with a grimace. "See?" He poked his tongue out, and sure enough there was a significant cut in his tongue that was still seeping blood. "Must've happened when it threw me across the alley. Damn it... Ianto, help me up."

Between Ianto and Bobby, they managed to lift Jack up into a sitting position, leaning gingerly against Ianto.

"You know, Ianto," he muttered as he flipped open his manipulator to examine it, "when I was chained up in the Valiant, one thing that I kept dreaming about was getting some personal time with you. Just doing ordinary things, like dating... stealing kisses whenever I could... cuddling..."

Ianto's eyebrow lifted at that, but he said nothing. Jack sighed softly, and tilted his head back to look up at his lover.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind."

Ianto smiled wryly, then, and craned his head around to capture Jack's lips in a soft kiss.

"If we get out of this alive, we'll do all the cuddling you want. But right now, Bobby and I would both rather appreciate it if we could focus on the more mundane task of escaping."

Jack looked across at Bobby, expecting to see him looking flustered and embarrassed. He was both surprised and pleased to find him just sitting there, watching the two of them with a smile.

"Not apologising," he stated firmly, and Bobby's smile widened.

"I'm glad to hear it. It's a relief, actually, to see two guys who are so open and honest about their relationship. I've seen so many people driven to commit violent crimes, just to try and hide the truth of their own sexuality."

Jack snorted as he turned his attention back to his manipulator.

"You people..."

Bobby looked quizzically at Ianto, who merely smiled and shook his head wordlessly. A moment of silence passed, when suddenly Jack's manipulator uttered a couple of unpleasant squawks, followed by a disheartening fizz. Jack snarled in frustration.

"Fuck!"

Ianto's eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline in reaction to that.

"You're going to give Owen a run for his money if you keep on like that."

"Sorry," Jack muttered sourly. "If I could just get this thing to work again... Damn it, I should never have let him disable the teleport function! It could have gotten us all out of here."

Bobby shifted closer for another look at the device.

"When you say 'he', you mean the Doctor, don't you?"

Jack answered with a terse nod.

"Yeah. He fixed it so that we could use it to escape Malcassairo in the year One Hundred Trillion, but when it was all over, he disabled the time travel teleport functions. He thought I'd go hopping all over the damn place with it. I should never have let him."

"No point moaning over it now," Ianto said. "What we should be doing is thinking of other options."

"What other options?" Jack asked bleakly. "We have no other options."

Again, Bobby and Ianto exchanged looks, and Ianto was mildly surprised to see a hard glint appear in the detective's eyes.

"Are you giving up?" Bobby asked, his voice taking on an edge that definitely had not been there before. Jack looked up at him, slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in the other man's demeanour. For several seconds that seemed to stretch out into an eternity, they stared at each other. Then, finally, Jack blinked and dropped his gaze just a fraction.

"No," he answered soberly. "I don't quit. But I... I'm..."

He faltered, suddenly painfully conscious of the effect that his uncertainties... his vulnerabilities... might have on his two companions.

"You're what, Jack?" Bobby asked quietly. "Scared? Angry? Helpless? All of the above?"

Jack's mouth had very abruptly gone bone dry, and he couldn't get a word out. He'd already guessed at Bobby's high intelligence, but now the man was displaying a level of perception that was just plain terrifying. He wondered whether Bobby unknowingly possessed some degree of psychic ability – most likely empathy – and resolved to test him if... no, _when_ they got out of there. Bobby went on, apparently oblivious to the attention he was garnering from both Jack and Ianto.

"I'm not giving up," Bobby stated with an understated ferocity, "and neither are you. Not while we have our colleagues out there somewhere, all of them probably working their asses off right now to find us."

Jack stared at Bobby, unable to completely hide his distress.

"Don't you get it? It's not me that I'm afraid for. Whatever it does, it can't kill me... but it _can_ kill the both of you."

"Jack," Ianto said softly, "I think we all know that it's not interested in me or Bobby."

Bobby nodded his agreement.

"We're just collateral here, Jack. Something it can use as leverage against you. It assumes it can keep you subdued by holding me and Ianto to ransom."

"Well, then, it assumed right," Jack said bitterly. "I won't do anything to risk your lives."

Irritation flashed across Ianto's face, but it was Bobby who responded first.

"I'm a cop, Jack. I'm NYPD. Risking my life is part and parcel of the job. Do you really think that I've never been in situations that might have gotten me killed? That I've never been shot? Or injured in any way? I have, more than I care to remember. Tell me, why should I react any differently to this, as opposed to any of those other situations that I've been in?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the irate detective.

"And don't you dare use the 'we catch aliens' line on me. Maybe I only deal with ordinary humans, but I'm betting I could easily trade stories with you. Humans can be some of the worst monsters around."

Unable to help himself, Jack glanced back over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the sober expression on Ianto's face. It was an argument that neither would deny, not after their experiences in the Brecon Beacons back home.

"I know," Jack whispered. "I know you're right."

Bobby hesitated, and then began to unbutton his shirt. Before either Jack or Ianto could ask what he was doing, he'd opened it up to reveal his bare chest, and the scars from multiple wounds that peppered his flesh.

"Some of these my father is responsible for, but most were caused by my mother. She was a paranoid schizophrenic, with a tendency towards violence. I was her favourite target when she suffered a new break. I was seven when it happened the first time, and I was terrified. So don't think I'm going to shut down now, because I won't. We're all here, and we're in this together. My life is not exclusively in your hands, Jack."

Jack tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. What came out instead was a strange sort of grimace.

"You've got balls, Bobby, I'll give you that. Just... promise me one thing."

"Here we go," Ianto muttered. Jack glowered back at him, but there was no real animosity in the look.

"What?" Bobby asked, his tone significantly calmer than it had been just half a minute ago.

"Promise me that when the Grysliaak comes, you won't get between it and me. Because believe me, it'd be suicide. Maybe your life isn't in my hands, but that's no excuse for you to be an idiot, either. You too, Ianto."

Bobby nodded passively.

"Okay. I won't get between you. Now, can we put our heads together and think of a way out of here?"

Jack smiled faintly. He really, _really_ liked the big cop, and was of half a mind to ignore the Doctor's directive not to expand his team. Instead, though, he just nodded and spoke a single word in a subdued tone.

"Okay."

* * *

_tbc..._


	16. A Way Out

Mike arrived at Mt Sinai, agitated, tired and generally fed up. Ross had sent him to the hospital to check on Alex, and bring Owen Harper back to One Police Plaza. He had no qualms about checking on Alex, but he resented being ordered to collect Harper, like he was some sort of glorified messenger boy.

Despite all that he'd seen... or perhaps because of it... he still mistrusted the Torchwood lot. He sympathised with the remaining three team members over the abduction of their captain and colleague, but his concerns lay primarily with Bobby. After all, Harkness was apparently indestructible, and if it came down to a choice over who the incredible immortal captain protected from the Grysliaak, Mike was pretty sure it _wouldn't_ be Bobby.

No, he was fairly certain that despite all the declarations of solidarity and cooperation, it was still very much a case of each to their own. Let Torchwood worry about their people, because right then all he cared about was one colleague who was currently in the hospital, and one who was currently at the mercy of a monster.

He slowed to a halt outside Alex's room, slightly disconcerted to hear the sound of laughter from within. Unable to completely conceal a frown, he rounded the corner and walked into the room.

* * *

Alex was propped up in the bed, her head bandaged and looking disturbingly like she had after her abduction twelve months ago. The difference this time, though, was the weary but genuine smile on her face. A smile which, Mike realised with growing irritation, the abrasive Torchwood medic had obviously been able to get out of her.

Owen, for his part, was perched carefully on the edge of the bed, telling her some story that Mike had clearly walked in on halfway through.

"…and so we all go in, practically ready for World War III, and it turns out that the guy who called it in exaggerated _just_a little. The so-called giant man-eating slug turned out to be the Borellian equivalent of a bloody poodle!"

Alex exploded into laughter, tears leaking from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

"He thought it was trying to eat him," Owen went on, "and he was screaming his bloody head off. Took Jack twenty minutes to calm him down and explain that he basically had a big blob of slime trying to hump his leg. The look on his face was priceless, I'm telling you, and it was _almost_ worth having to clean up afterwards. But the best part… seriously, you had to see it to believe it… was watching Jack get the fucking thing on a leash, and then walk it out to the SUV!"

Alex wiped at her eyes, still laughing at the images that Owen's words put in her mind.

"What happened to it?" she asked.

"We found its owner, thank God. Damned alien tourists. Mind you, Myfanwy was disappointed. She thought we'd brought her back a live snack."

"Myfanwy?" Alex echoed, and Owen nodded.

"Our pterodactyl. She came through the rift as a baby and Jack hand-reared her. You might say she's more or less our mascot now… or club pet… although, she'll always be Jack's pterodactyl. Poor thing moped for a month when he disappeared."

"Don't know whether to believe half of what you lot say," Mike said as he came all the way into the hospital room. If Owen was surprised by his entrance, he didn't let it show.

"You can believe whatever you like, mate. No skin off my nose."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Mike walked around to the other side of the bed.

"How're you feeling, kid?"

"If I didn't have this jackhammer going off inside my head," she muttered, "I might take offence to being called kid."

Mike grinned.

"Lucky for me, then. Seriously, though, how are you feeling?"

"She has a severe concussion," Owen stated, suddenly completely serious.

"My head hurts like hell," Alex confirmed bleakly. Mike looked around at Owen.

"Did you ask her anything yet?"

"I was getting to it," Owen snapped. "My first priority was making sure she's okay. Not hounding her for answers."

"Answers to what?" Alex demanded impatiently. Mike sighed and spoke up with reluctance.

"Alex, we need you to think. When you were in the café with Bobby and those two…"

"Oi, those _two_ have names," Owen growled, and Alex nodded in agreement, only to cringe at the sudden shard of pain the movement sent through her skull.

"Jack and Ianto," she mumbled, shutting her eyes and waiting for the worst of the pain to subside. Mike threw a frown at her, which she completely missed.

"So now _you're_ on first name terms with them too?"

Alex's glared at him with as much ferocity as she could muster.

"What about them, Mike?"

He seemed to realise he was treading on thin ice, and spoke in a considerably gentler tone.

"Try and think carefully, Alex. Did Harkness say anything while you and Bobby were with him? Anything at all that might help us deal with the… you know… _it_."

Owen uttered a short, abrasive laugh.

"Bloody hell, you can't even say it, can you?"

Mike glared at Owen.

"The Grysliaak, all right? Did he say anything about the Grysliaak?"

"Like what?" Alex asked. "If you think he had some secret way to catch it, then forget it. He didn't."

"Look," Mike said with just a hint of impatience, "what did you talk about? Tell us everything you can remember."

Alex's breath caught in her throat as she found herself remembering the terrible and heartbreaking memories that Jack had shown them. She knew the courage it must have taken him to let them see such personal and devastating memories such as those, and she wasn't going to betray his trust by telling Mike about them.

"What is it?" Mike asked, but Alex shook her head slowly.

"Nothing," she murmured, her eyes deliberately fixed on the blanket. "It's not relevant."

Frustration flashed in Mike's eyes.

"C'mon, Alex, you know better than that! Anything that happened between when you guys all walked out of One Police Plaza, to when you were attacked is relevant."

The look she fired at him, though, silenced him very effectively.

"I said, it's not relevant. Don't argue with me, Mike. You know damned well that I wouldn't hold anything back if it was even slightly relevant."

Mike looked doubtful, but didn't dispute her again.

"Okay, fine. But isn't there anything at all?"

Alex shut her eyes against stinging tears.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to focus right now?"

"I know," Mike said, at least having the decency to sound a little chastened. "I really am sorry, Alex, but you know I have to ask. You need to try and think, for Bobby's sake."

The instant the words were out of his mouth, Mike knew he'd blundered. Alex's eyes snapped open again, and Mike instinctively drew back from the force of her glare.

"Don't," she whispered furiously. "Don't you dare use Bobby to emotionally blackmail me, Logan."

"Nice one, mate," Owen muttered, winning himself a glare from Mike.

"I am not trying to emotionally blackmail you, Alex!" he argued, a hint of desperation appearing in his voice. "The truth is that it seemed like only Harkness had any clue how to deal with this thing, and now he's out of the picture. So unless someone has some other brilliant idea…"

Owen had stood up by then, and was walking around the bed to confront Mike.

"All right, enough! She doesn't remember anything!"

"Back off, pal," Mike growled. "I'm a cop, and this is still our territory."

Owen snorted.

"I don't give a flying fig, Detective. This is a hospital, I'm the doctor, and I say enough!"

Alex froze, her breath hitching as she suddenly remembered a secondary conversation as they left the café, just before the Grysliaak attacked them in the alley.

"Alex?" Mike asked softly. "What is it? What are you remembering?"

"The Doctor," Alex whispered, and felt a slight tremor ripple through her body as the name passed her lips.

"You want a doctor?" Mike asked, barely resist the urge to smirk at Owen.

"No, you idiot," she snapped, and then turned her attention to Owen. "Not _a_ doctor… _The_ Doctor. I mean the one who was a prisoner on the Valiant with Jack."

Realisation dawned in Owen's eyes finally. Yes, he knew who she meant, but his knowledge of the Doctor was limited to what was available about him in the Torchwood archives, and whatever scraps of information that Jack had deigned to divulge to the team.

"Oh, him… What about him, then?"

"He could help," Alex said anxiously. "Jack said he could help, if everything went wrong."

"Well, yeah. He probably could help," Owen conceded. "Except, we have no way of contacting him…" He trailed off, his eyes widening slightly. "Unless… Please tell me Jack told you how to contact him!"

"He didn't know," Alex said, "but he gave the name of someone that he said does know. He said we have to contact someone called Martha Jones, and tell her two things. _The Captain needs his Doctor_, and _Grysliaak_."

Mike looked across at Owen, who was frowning deeply.

"Well?"

"Martha Jones," Owen echoed, a frown creasing his own features. "She was the Doctor's companion when Jack went racing after him… before everything went to hell with Saxon. He's talked a bit about her, although nothing really substantial. He tends to just moon over her after he's had a few, you know? Martha Jones, the woman who saved the world, he calls her. Useless rubbish, frankly. Whether he's said anything more useful to Ianto, I don't know, not that it'd help much if he has."

"But you know how to reach her, right?" Mike pressed. Grimacing, Owen reached up and flicked on his earpiece.

"Tosh!"

Her voice echoed almost instantly in his ear in response.

"_I'm here, Owen. What do you need?"_

"We need the contact details for Martha Jones," he answered. A brief silence met the request.

"_Who…?"_

"You know! The woman that Jack kept going to mush over when he came home!"

"_Oh,__** that**__ Martha Jones. Why didn't you say so? Stand by, this may take a minute…"_

"Well?" Mike asked again.

"She's running a search," Owen answered. "A little patience wouldn't go astray, you know."

Mike rolled his eyes, but fell quiet. The seconds ticked by with agonising slowness before Owen spoke again.

"Great, Tosh. Thanks, you're a gem."

He looked back at Mike.

"I need your mobile phone, Detective."

Mike hesitated, frowning again.

"Where's yours?"

"Back at your headquarters, mate," Owen growled impatiently. "Will you please just give it to me?"

"Mike, just do it!" Alex snapped. Glowering, Mike pulled out his cell phone. Instead of handing it to Owen, though, he held it up to dial the number.

"Give me the number."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'll call her. Give me the number."

Owen groaned, but conceded if only to save as much time as he could.

"Bloody hell… Fine! You can try to explain it. Silly git…"

He repeated the number to Mike, who pressed it into his phone's keypad, and waited for an answer.

* * *

It soon became an unspoken agreement that they were going nowhere until Jack's body healed. Since neither Bobby nor Ianto could bring themselves to go that extra step and kill him, they had no choice but to wait until either he healed on his own, or the Grysliaak came back. Either way, it proved painful for Jack.

They all knew which was likely to happen first, though.

"So tell me about this Doctor of yours," Bobby said quietly, breaking the lengthy silence. Jack glanced over at him distractedly. His body seemed to be entering the early stages of repair. There was a steady pain that was starting to permeate his lower half, where before there had been nothing. He still couldn't move his legs, but he suspected – or rather, hoped – that it wouldn't be long before he could.

"You want to know about the Doctor? Why?"

Bobby regarded him with a deceptively passive stare.

"You don't trust easily, that much is obvious. You're unique among humans, and that makes for a lonely existence, but you're also reluctant to let anyone get close to you… I can understand that now. It can't be easy, knowing you're going to outlive everyone you care about. You admitted yourself that this Doctor knowingly abandoned you, and yet you still trust him implicitly. You still love him. And yes, I remember what you showed us, but even so…"

Jack glanced back over his shoulder at Ianto, extreme discomfort on his face at Bobby's none-too-subtle statement. Ianto, however, smiled reassuringly and pressed a gently kiss to his cheek.

"It's all right, Jack. I know you still love him, and I'm okay with that. I understand."

A soft sigh of resignation escaped Jack. He just didn't have it in him to argue with either one of them right then.

"So what do you want to know, then?"

"How did you meet him?" Bobby wondered, and a small smile touched Jack's lips as he remembered a night in London during the Blitz – so very long ago now.

"It was World War II. The first time…"

"I'm sorry, the _first_ time?" Bobby echoed. Jack nodded.

"Yes. I lived through World War II twice, although admittedly, I was only there for a few months the first time round. The second time I had to live through the entire thing."

"So what were you doing in London, during the Blitz, the first time?" Bobby questioned with a wry smile. Jack, however, didn't smile, and when he spoke it was with uncharacteristic uncertainty, and neither Bobby nor Ianto could be sure exactly who it was that Jack was speaking to at that moment.

"There's something you need to understand. When I skipped out on the Time Agency, I had nothing. No money, no transport… nothing but the clothes I was wearing. They'd even stripped me of two years' worth of memories. I had to survive somehow, so I did the only thing I could."

"You ran cons," Bobby guessed, and Jack answered with a quick nod. He didn't dare look to see the expression on Ianto's face.

"Yeah. I'm not proud of it now, but yeah, I was a con man. Most of the time I tried to stick to targeting time agents... ones who didn't know me. Occasionally I'd go outside that, but only when I had to. Although, I have to say I don't regret talking Ay'lia into letting me take her ship for a spin. Stealing that baby was the best thing I did out of a whole list of bad things, because it eventually led me to the Doctor. But I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted to get by."

"So what happened during the London Blitz?" Bobby asked, deciding to shift the conversation along.

"I screwed up," Jack admitted in a voice that was laced with guilt. "I screwed up in a big way. I found what I thought was just a piece of space junk, and I threw it at the Doctor's ship and let him chase it to Earth. Only problem was that it wasn't junk, and it wasn't empty. I won't go into details, but it was bad. But he fixed it. He figured it all out, and he fixed it. He figured it out, and he fixed it. And then, even after the damage I'd done, he still saved my sorry ass." Jack paused, drawing in a long, steadying breath as he was assaulted by memories that he had long buried deep beneath the surface of his own mind. "There was this bomb due to drop on the site where the… _space junk_ landed, and it would have killed a lot of people. I caught it with the tractor beam of my ship, and took it out of the Earth's atmosphere. I couldn't get rid of it after that, though. It was going to blow up, and take me with it. I would have deserved it, too. Not disputing that. But that particular incarnation of the Doctor was strong on giving people second chances… although, I think in my case that Rose might have had something to do with it. Anyway, they rescued me, and I just stayed with them. I didn't have anywhere else to go, and it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Do you regret it?" Bobby asked, and Jack answered emphatically, and without hesitation.

"No. I don't, not for a second. Staying with the Doctor and Rose… even for that short time… made me re-evaluate myself. I had to change, and start taking responsibility. I don't regret that."

"I'd like to meet this Doctor," Bobby murmured. Jack smiled wistfully.

"I think he'd like you, Bobby. You're smart, you're open-minded and you care about the people around you. He doesn't tolerate apathy or unkindness. He told me more than once that there's no excuse for not trying to do the right thing."

"He sounds like an incredible person."

"He is," Jack confirmed, his voice suddenly sounding suspiciously choked. "He really is."

"And that's his name?" Bobby wondered. "Just… the Doctor?"

Jack smiled, although his good humour was tempered by the pain he was in – both physical and emotional.

"He has a lot of names. The best one I heard was 'The Oncoming Storm'. That's what the Daleks called him, and they were right. But 'Doctor' is the name he chose for himself. No one knows what his real name is. I think sometimes that he doesn't know himself anymore. Nine hundred and twenty-five years, and I guess he can be forgiven for having a little memory loss, right?"

Bobby couldn't conceal his astonishment.

"That's how old he is?"

"Give or take a few years," Jack confirmed. "He's not human, Bobby. The Doctor is a Time Lord, from Gallifrey."

Silence met Jack's words, and nearly a minute passed before Bobby spoke again.

"Time Lord…? As in, he can travel through time?"

Jack smiled, pleased with Bobby's astuteness.

"Got it in one. He's alone now, though. The last of his race, the only Time Lord left in existence."

A sad smile touched Bobby's lips at that.

"You're two of a kind, then, by virtue of your own uniqueness. Is he immortal, too?"

"Not in the same way I am," Jack murmured. He frowned as he was momentarily distracted by the realisation that he could wiggle his toes again. "He will eventually die… but not for a long time yet, and for him a long time might be another nine hundred years."

"There must be some comfort in that," Ianto spoke up awkwardly. "Knowing that he'll still be around for a long time to come when the rest of us…"

"I try not to think too far ahead," Jack cut him off quietly. "It's not healthy, and it just makes my head spin, trying to think how long I'm going to live for, especially when I've been one hundred trillion years into the future. No, I'd prefer to just think about the here and now, thanks very much. Gotta live in the… ah, _shit_!"

"Jack, what is it?" Ianto asked anxiously.

"My body… it's healing… and it _hurts_! Damn…"

"Do you want me to lie you down?"

"No," Jack gasped, grasping anxiously for Ianto's arm, to keep it where it was around his chest. "Please, Ianto, just… just hold me. It won't last for long… I hope…"

A strangled sob escaped him as his shattered spine began to repair itself, sending waves of excruciating agony through him as nerves fused and bones knitted back together. Through the pain, he was aware of Ianto's arms wrapped around him, and the young man's lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses to the back of his neck in a futile effort to distract him from the pain, As another agonising wave swept through him, though, he became aware of another hand – large, strong and warm – slipping into his own and holding on tightly.

Jack found himself clinging to Ianto's arm with one hand, and gripping Bobby's hand with the other in a vice-like grip, and all the while trying desperately not to writhe from the pain he was in.

At some point, he became aware of Ianto shifting and easing him down onto his back on the floor, with his head resting on Ianto's lap. The move exacerbated what was already crippling pain as the slowly mending vertebrae shifted to accommodate his body's new position, and Jack screamed, and screamed, and screamed…

* * *

Mike let the phone ring out before closing it again and looking to Owen in frustration.

"No answer. Any other bright ideas?"

"Fuck," Owen muttered.

"I'll take that as a no, then," Mike said dryly.

"You two had better get back," Alex said softly, unable to conceal her disappointment. "Maybe they've come up with something back at the squad room."

"Jack will do everything he can to keep your partner safe, Detective," Owen told her solemnly. Mike looked grim, but he refrained from speaking until they were both well clear of the hospital room.

"Let's just hope it's enough, because if Bobby dies…"

"You're just all full and sweetness and light, aren't you?" Owen retorted.

"I'm just saying…"

"Well, don't," Owen snapped. "You're not helping anybody, least of all Bobby."

Mike scowled but said nothing more, and they rode down the rest of the way in heavy silence.

* * *

When Jack came back to awareness, his head still rested on Ianto's lap, and cool hands ran gently over his forehead and hair in a soothing motion. Most importantly, though, there was no pain. His eyes flickered open slowly to find Ianto watching him with a sweet smile that was filled with concern.

"Welcome back."

Jack hesitated just a moment before attempting to lever himself up. Still no pain, and with the exception of a slight wobble in his arms, his strength seemed to be returning to his body. Better still, he mused, it seemed that he'd regained full feeling and mobility below the waist.

"Back to normal?" Bobby queried, and Jack smiled grimly.

"Define normal."

Bobby didn't respond to the wry remark, but rather waited patiently for a seriously reply.

"Yeah, more or less," Jack confirmed. "And I'm not paralysed anymore." He looked around quizzically at his two companions. "Did I die?"

"No," Ianto told him. "You didn't. We thought for a moment that your heart was going to give out, but it didn't. You healed without dying."

"Not sure if that's a good thing or not," Jack murmured. Slowly, he got to his feet, if only to confirm to himself that the spinal injury was really healed, and the paralysis gone.

"Now," he said with fresh enthusiasm, "we can get the hell out of here."

"How, Jack?" Ianto asked with the slightest hint of impatience. "We have no weapons, and no way to get out of this cage."

Jack walked over to the cage door for a closer look. There was nothing fancy about the means of their incarceration. There was no electronic lock, nothing that might have needed alien tech to get it open. It was a simple chain and padlock.

He stared at it intently. His strength was coming back, but was it enough?

"Jack, what do you think you're doing?" Ianto asked.

"You can't break that chain with your bare hands," Bobby said wearily. Jack grimaced as he put all his returning strength into his efforts.

"One thing I never mentioned… I'm stronger than average… I mean a_lot_ stronger. On the Valiant, we planned a distraction so the Doctor could get the Master's weapon. You both saw where I was held, how I was chained up between two pillars. Well, I ripped those chains right out of the pillars."

Ianto opened his mouth to make a comment, but Bobby touched his arm and shook his head.

_Let him try_, he mouthed to Ianto, and younger man nodded somewhat reluctantly. He supposed he could see Jack's point of view. Better to try and do_something_, no matter how futile it seemed, than just sit around and wait to die.

The minutes ticked by, and the silence was broken only by the grunts of effort that Jack was making. Finally, Ianto was about to tell him to stop, when Jack suddenly uttered wordless yell, and the padlock snapped in his hands, sending the chain to the floor in a broken coil. Bobby and Ianto stared at him, their stunned looks making Jack laugh.

"You two should see your faces."

"You did it…" Ianto said incredulously as he walked over and stared down at the chain. "You really did it! I didn't think you… I mean…"

"Ye of little faith," Jack retorted. "Now, are we going to get out of here or not?"

"Lead the way," Bobby told him with a relieved grin.

* * *

"One thing," Jack told them as they made their way along a dim corridor. "If the Grysliaak shows up, forget about me. Just get yourselves out. Understand?"

Ianto frowned, unimpressed with Jack's apparent determination to sacrifice himself.

"Jack, I will not leave you behind. What is it going to take to make you understand that?"

"He's right, though," Bobby said softly, winning himself an angry glare from the Welshman. "If at least one of us can get out of here, then we can bring back help. It's the sensible thing... the logical thing."

"There you go," Jack said insistently. Bobby, however, then swung back to look intently at the Captain.

"Except, I never was one for behaving logically. You may be right, but I agree with Ianto. We're not abandoning you to that thing, so don't ask us to."

Jack looked from Bobby to Ianto in frustration.

"You're both pains in the ass. You know that?"

Both men grinned unapologetically, and Jack sighed in defeat.

"Fine. I guess we'll just have to make sure all three of us get out of here, then. Let's go."

He strode away, muttering something under his breath about knowing what the Doctor meant about companions not doing what they were told. Bobby and Ianto watched him go in amusement.

"Thankyou," Ianto told Bobby quietly. "I think that sometimes, Jack just doesn't realise that he doesn't always need to sacrifice himself."

"I can understand that," Bobby murmured. "But he does understand loyalty and love. Otherwise, we would have had a bigger fight on our hands."

"I used to think that love was something Jack had no real concept of," Ianto admitted. "But I was so wrong. He understands love better than any of us."

"No man could live for a hundred and seventy years and not know love," Bobby pointed out.

"True," Ianto agreed. "But I think Jack learned what love really was before he became immortal. I think he learned what it was from the Doctor."

Bobby nodded.

"I think you may be right. It would explain his feelings for him." He paused, and then added uncomfortably, "I don't mean to... you know... disparage what's between you two."

"It's all right," Ianto reassured him. "I know that Jack will always love the Doctor, because it's the Doctor who's responsible for him being the man he is today... and I don't mean the immortality bit. I'm okay with it, because I know he loves me, too. It's hard to explain, but I know I never have to worry about trying to compete with the Doctor for Jack. He loves us both, and he wouldn't deliberately betray either one of us for the other."

"For someone who's been through so much, he still has a lot of love to share," Bobby mused. Ianto smiled wistfully.

"Yes. He does."

And then, suddenly, Jack's voice cut into their discussion, hard and impatient.

"Are you two coming?"

Exchanging wry smiles, the two men headed off after Jack.

* * *

"Where are we?" Ianto wondered. "Bobby? Do you have any idea?"

Bobby looked around them slowly, taking in the unfamiliar surrounds.

"Looks like a decommissioned power plant."

"That'd be about right for Grysliaak," Jack said. "Must only be a recent decommission, though. There must still be enough residue power running through the place to attract the Grysliaak. It wouldn't come here if the place was a dead cell."

"Which narrows it down to a couple of possibilities," Bobby concluded. "There are two power plants that were decommissioned within the last couple of months. The Brennen Power Plant on Long Island, and the Davis Plant on Staten Island. I'm not sure which one this is."

"Narrows it down, at least," Jack said, patting him on the shoulder. "Now, next step is to get out of this building. Look for an exit sign, gentlemen."

"There," Ianto said breathlessly, pointing off to the right, to a doorway at the end of a long corridor that was clearly maked 'exit'.

They were halfway there when a new sound shattered the quiet. Aninhuman cry of rage split the otherwise still atmosphere, sending chills down all of their spines.

"Run!" Jack yelled, planting a hand firmly on the shoulder of each man and propelling them towards the door. "Go!"

"Jack?" Ianto yelled, even as he broke into a run.

"I'm right behind you," Jack shouted back. "Just keep going!"

They ran, focused exclusively on the door ahead of them, and the freedom that they hoped lay on the other side. Ianto got there first, nearly weeping with relief as it opened easily. He held it open, and said a silent prayer of gratitude as first Bobby and then Jack charged through. Jack paused just long enough to push the door shut behind them and turn the manual lock.

"Is that really going to slow it down?" Bobby wondered.

"Probably not," Jack answered. "But it makes me feel better. Let's go, c'mon!"

They found themselves in what looked like an administration area, full of office cubicles. A quick look revealed what they were all looking for – an exit on the far side of the room.

"Go," Jack hissed.

They started towards it, when an angry voice reached them from the other side of the door.

"_Jack! Where are you? Come back and give yourself up, and I'll let your friends go. You know you can't escape me, Jack. But if you don't come back right now, I promise you that I'll drain them both dry. Can you hear me, Jack?_"

"Jack, don't you dare," Ianto whispered hoarsely. The Captain shook his head, and there was a small spark of fear just visible in his eyes that, in a perverse sort of way, gave Ianto some small measure of reassurance.

"Don't worry," Jack said. "I wasn't planning on doing anything except getting the hell outta here. Now c'mon. Let's keep moving."

They moved swiftly through the offices until they finally reached the reception area and, finally, the outside.

"We need to hide," Ianto said hoarsely, but Jack shook his head.

"No. There's no hiding from that thing. We have to keep moving." He paused, his gaze going to Bobby. "Are you okay?"

The big detective looked more than a little red-faced from exertion, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Fine. I'm okay. Let's just keep going."

Jack looked around, trying to decide which way to go. Bobby took the choice out of his hands, though, pointing away down a deserted road.

"That way. There's the gate. There should be a guard box there... Even if there's no one around, there should be a phone there that we can use."

"Assuming the Grysliaak hasn't shorted it out already," Ianto remarked flatly.

They took off again, running literally for their lives, with the Grysliaak's angry howls in their ears. What felt like hours later, and yet might only have been a matter of seconds, they came to an electronically sealed gate. Jack charged into the guard's box, only to curse angrily.

"Damn it! It's a key code lock!"

"What if we just short circuit the system?" Ianto wondered, but Jack shook his head.

"No good. If I smash it, or try to short circuit it, the gate will jam. I need to break the code."

Ianto glanced back, his breath catching in his throat.

"Hurry, Jack. It's coming."

As Jack went to work on the key code, Bobby grabbed the phone.

"It's working!" he exclaimed, and quickly dialled a memorised number. It was answered after a couple of rings, and a gruff and impatient voice sounded on the other end.

"_Ross_."

Bobby didn't think he had ever been so glad to hear his captain's voice.

"Captain, it's Goren."

The startled silence on the other end of the line was palpable, and a few seconds passed before Ross found his voice again.

"_Goren? How...?_"

"We got away, Captain, but we're trapped." There was a sharp crackle through the phone line, causing Bobby to hiss and yank the phone away from his ear.

"_Goren? Are you still there?_"

"I'm here, Captain, but we don't have long."

"_Where are you? Do you know?_"

"We're not sure," Bobby answered. "It's either the Brennen Plant on Long Island, or the Davis Plant on Staten Island..."

As Bobby spoke, fresh electricity surged through the line, crackling and hissing explosively. When it ended, the line was dead. At the same moment, Jack yelped and jumped back as power surged through the guard's box, shorting out everything, including the gate controls.

"Dead," Jack said in a hoarse voice. "It's all dead. I can't get the gate open." He swung around to look at Bobby. "Did you get through?"

"I don't know," Bobby whispered as he dropped the phone handle back into its cradle. "I don't know if Captain Ross heard me or not."

"Jack!" Ianto said sharply. "Can't you feel it?"

Jack looked up and, sure enough, he could feel the sudden charge of electricity in the air. Their captor was coming for them, and they all knew what was going to happen when it got there.

"We have to go. We have to find another way out." He paused, and when neither Bobby nor Ianto moved, he yelled at them both in an attempt to jerk them back into action. "We have to go, now! Move it!"

Bobby went first, emerging back out into the open. He'd barely made it three steps when an almost deafening crack split the air, and Bobby was lifted clean off his feet and thrown hard into the nearby gate. From there, he slid to the ground, and lay there unmoving.

"Bobby!" Jack yelled, but had no chance to go to him. An instant later, Ianto was ripped clean out of the guard's box, with no time even to scream. Jack nearly tripped getting out, only to freeze just outside the doorway of the box.

The Grysliaak looked up from where it crouched over Ianto, almost completely humanised in its form. It had the younger man pinned completely to the ground with a strength that was anything but human, its mouth open against Ianto's throat and visibly sparking with electricity.

"Get away from him," Jack whispered, his fingers itching to reach for a gun that wasn't on his hip.

"You defied me, Jack," the monster rasped. "You ran away from me again. Why should I do what you want?"

Slowly, Jack moved out into the open, arms outstretched in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

"You don't want him. You know you don't."

"Oh no? I think this one would taste very sweet, Jack."

"No!" Jack burst out, panic just audible in his voice. "No, you don't want him. Just... leave him be."

"Why, Jack? Tell me why I don't want him." The Grysliaak grinned viciously, not lifting its head from where it hovered barely centimetres above Ianto's throat. Jack sucked in a shuddering breath as he struggled to reconcile his deepset fear of the Grysliaak against an even deeper terror of losing Ianto.

When he spoke, it was with a preternatural calm that belied the very real turmoil he was in.

"Because I'm here. I'm the one you want." He tried to swallow, but his throat was utterly dry. He spoke again in a slightly strangled voice. "Take me."

For a long moment, it seemed the Grysliaak was going to refuse, and take Ianto anyway. Jack was just on the cusp of risking an outright assault when, without warning, it launched itself forward. Jack had no time to shout before he was tackled violently to the ground, and the monster's mouth locked onto his throat.

Pain... Blinding, crippling pain... Screaming... Screaming until he could scream no more... And then, finally, darkness, sweet darkness...

* * *

_tbc..._


	17. Their Last Hope

Ross almost threw his phone away from him as static suddenly ripped through the line. When he brought it back to his ear, it was as he feared. The connection had been lost, and all he could hear was the desolate sound of a dial tone.

He slammed the phone down angrily, and had to brace his hands briefly on the edge of the desk as he fought to regain his composure. Goren had been trying to tell him where they were, but the static and electrical interference had effectively stymied that. All he'd heard was 'power plant', and even then he couldn't be absolutely certain.

"Captain?"

Ross looked around to see Mike Logan standing there in the doorway, looking at him worriedly. The captain motioned to his phone.

"Goren called me."

"What!?" Mike burst out, striding into the office. "You're kidding! They got away?"

"Apparently," Ross confirmed grimly. "He was just trying to tell me where they were when there was all this static, and then the line cut out. I think it just caught up with them again, and there's not a damn thing we can do to help them!"

Ross uttered an angry shout and slammed the palm of his hand against the desktop.

"What did he manage to tell you?" Mike asked, taking care to close the door behind him. "Did he tell you anything useful at all?"

"I think he might have mentioned something about a power plant, but I couldn't be sure."

"A power plant...?" Mike wondered. "Well, that thing was made of energy, right? That's what Harkness said, wasn't it?"

"Yes..."

"So, a power plant would make sense. Not an active plant, though. It'd have to be one where there are no people around, or that would bring too much attention."

"A decommissioned plant," Ross said in shock realisation, and Mike nodded.

"Exactly!"

"Don't get too excited. There are three altogether," Ross reminded Mike soberly. "By the time we searched all three... even if we get lucky and hit the right one first..."

"We have to try," Mike cut him off. "C'mon, Captain, we _have_ to try."

Ross nodded his concession. He'd never intended to say no. Mike went on quickly, sounding relieved.

"So, there are three decommissioned power plants. One of those is the Foster Plant. It's been shut down since February last year, so it's probably not that one. Been shut down for too long. Other than that, we've got two that were only decommissioned in the last couple of months."

"Staten Island, and Long Island," Ross said. "The question is, which one? We don't have the time to waste searching the wrong place."

Mike suddenly wheeled around and all but ran from the office. Ross hesitated for just a moment before going after him.

* * *

Gwen was in the process of trying to piece together what little they knew about the Grysliaak. She had been writing anything and everything they could think of on the whiteboard, but there were a pitifully small number of facts to show for it. The stress was starting to show on her face as they strained to piece together any little snippets of information that they could. It was proving to be a fruitless exercise, and everyone in the squad room knew it.

So, when Mike approached Gwen, neither he nor Ross was surprised when she rounded on him defensively.

"Detective Logan, if you're here to make petty comments, then you can just turn around and walk away. I do not want to hear it."

Mike blinked, and then grinned wryly.

"Truce," he said, holding up his hands, palms out. "Listen, Cooper, can you guys scan the city for things like power fluctuations?"

Gwen looked across to Tosh, who nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, but it would be impossible to differentiate between normal and abnormal fluctuations."

"Well, what about specific locations?" Mike pressed. "If I could give you specific locations to target?"

"Such as...?" Owen asked.

"Such as a couple of recently decommissioned power plants?"

Tosh's eyes went wide.

"Oh my god, of course! Yes, just give me the locations, and I'll be able to determine if there's any sort of energy being generated that can't be attributed to residue power."

As Mike went with Tosh to give her the information she needed, Owen looked incredulously at Ross.

"How'd you think of that?"

Ross smiled ruefully.

"I'd love to say that it's pure deductive reasoning, but I can't. The truth is, Goren called me. He said they'd managed to get away, but I suspect the Grysliaak caught up with them again, because the connection was cut fairly abruptly by what I think was a pretty damned big power surge."

"Bloody hell, I hope they're okay," Owen muttered. Ross hesitated, and then spoke in a low voice to Owen and Gwen.

"Logan told me earlier about trying to contact that woman..."

"You mean Martha Jones?" Owen asked, and the captain nodded.

"Yes. Any luck with that?"

Owen sighed and shook his head.

"No. We've tried half a dozen times since coming back from the hospital. No luck. We can't reach her."

"This... Doctor. Could he really help?"

A grim and rather unpleasant smile filtered onto Owen's face.

"Oh yes, Captain Ross. He could. And because it's Jack who's in trouble, it's a fair bet that he'd come on the fly. The thing is... this Doctor is the reason Torchwood even exists. No one knows the real story now, but rumour is that he pissed off Queen Victoria, and she set up Torchwood to protect the Earth from him."

Ross blinked, puzzled.

"But if he's dangerous..."

"Of course he's dangerous," Owen retorted. "But the Queen got it wrong, The Doctor has always defended the Earth, not threatened it. God only knows what sort of state we'd be in if it wasn't for him."

"But we can't reach him," Ross said. Owen shook his head.

"No."

"Then we're on our own, Doctor Harper."

Abruptly, Tosh and Mike emerged from the task room.

"The Brennen Plant, on Long Island!" Mike announced anxiously.

"There was a massive power surge through there just ten or fifteen minutes ago," Tosh added. Ross felt a chill go down his spine as he remembered the power surge that had cut communications between him and his detective.

"All right!" Ross shouted, immediately garnering the attention of everyone in the room. "People, get your gear together. We're moving out immediately! Our target is the Brennen Power Plant on Long Island. Let's go!" He turned to Owen once more, as the squad exploded into action. "Detective Logan and I will come with you three, if that's acceptable."

"Fine with us," Owen said blithely. "You can help carry our gear."

* * *

Minutes later, they were on their way, a convoy of police cars heading towards Long Island and, hopefully, the safe recovery of their colleagues. Ross called ahead to warn the relevant precinct that they were coming, but to stay right away. Consequently, Ross was not the slightest bit surprised find a contingent of officers from the Three-Six waiting for them, led by Lieutenant Alan Dimitri.

"Danny," Dimitri greeted him soberly as they Major Case detectives joined the officers of the Three-Six. Ross offered no pretence of friendliness.

"I told you to stay away, Alan."

Dimitri raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Right. You say you're coming onto my territory, out of your jurisdiction, to search a place that no one has set foot inside for two months, and you expect me to stay away? You should know better than that, Danny. Now, what's going on?"

Ross clenched his jaw and his fists in aggravation. He hates this, but there appeared to be no way to get around telling Dimitri at least the basics of what was happening.

"We have three people missing," he answered tersely. "One of them is one of my own detectives. We believe they're being held in here."

Dimitri snorted softly.

"Okay. So where's your search warrant?"

It took considerable effort for Ross not to react. Surely, he thought with a sinking feeling, Dimitri was not going to insist on a warrant…

"We don't have one," he answered, starting to feel more than a little angry at the delay. "We have reasonable cause, though…"

"Bullshit!" Dimitri shot back, a smug grin on his face. "Oh, I've been waiting for you to fuck up, Danny. You've been a pompous bastard ever since they gave you Major Case, but this… Oh, this is beautiful!"

"We don't have time for this, Alan…"

Again, Dimitri snorted derisively.

"You've got plenty of time, because I am not letting you go through those gates without a search warrant. It's still private property. You ought to know damned well that I can't allow you to go in without a warrant."

Angry and frustrated, Ross decided it was time to defer authority.

"Miss Cooper?" he asked, turning to Gwen. "Would you please let Captain Dimitri know exactly where he stands here?"

Gwen came forward, pulling out her ID and all but thrusting it into Dimitri's face.

"Gwen Cooper, Torchwood," she introduced herself brusquely. Dimitri frowned, peering at the unfamiliar identification.

"Torchwood? What the hell is Torchwood?"

"We," Gwen said in a chillingly calm voice as she indicated herself, Owen and Tosh, "are Torchwood. And we are the ones who will have your balls in a sling if you don't get the fuck out of our way! You have no authority here, Lieutenant. Torchwood has priority, and if you didn't get the memo, then I suggest you call your Commissioner. He'll happily confirm it for you."

Dimitri blanched, visibly taken aback by the young woman's aggression. As he was recovering from the shock, Owen stepped forward and spoke as well.

"In other words, pack up and clear off, and maybe when you wake up tomorrow, you'll still have a job to go to."

Dimitri looked incredulously at Ross, who didn't as much as blink.

"They're not kidding, Alan. You get in the way now, and you'll be lucky if all that happens is you lose your job. Now, take your people, and get out of here!"

It looked for a moment like Dimitri was going to argue further, but then his shoulders dropped, and he spoke angrily.

"You haven't heard the last of this, Ross."

He wheeled around and stalked away before Ross could answer him back, taking a squad of disgruntled cops with him.

"About bloody time," Owen growled, once they'd finally gone. "Tosh, get that gate open, love."

"Way ahead of you," she called back.

All eyes turned to look as the gate slid open, and Tosh held up a device that was flickering with odd lights. She smiled faintly, though there was little humour in that smile.

"Opens any lock in thirty seconds – even ones that have been disabled."

Owen and Gwen shot through the open gate, with Ross, Mike and the rest of the squad close behind.

"Crap, can you smell that?" Owen muttered.

"Smells like electricity," Ross said, looking around grimly. "Like something... or someone... was electrocuted."

Silence met that statement, and uneasy looks were traded amongst them all. None of them wanted to think too heavily on that.

"Here!" Mike called out suddenly, drawing attention to where he stood nearby. He pointed to what looked like a scorch mark on the ground. "What do you make of that?"

Gwen crouched down for a closer look. When she finally looked up again, her face was the colour of ash.

"It's a body shape. Someone was held down here and..." She faltered, unable to bring herself to say it. "It caught up to them again. They escaped, but it caught them again."

"Ah, fuck," Owen swore. All eyes turned to see what he had just picked up off the ground a few metres away from the scorch mark. "It's Jack's wristband," he explained grimly.

Ross looked around, struggling to contain his own distress. He suspected that it was a pointless exercise, but they had to look.

"Okay, people. We need to search this whole place. Let's get moving... and for God's sake, be careful."

* * *

Two hours later confirmed what Ross had suspected. The power plant was empty. Granted, it only seemed to have happened recently, but it was empty nonetheless. With the exception of what they had discovered inside the gate, there was no sign at all of Bobby Goren, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, or the monster that had taken them.

"Too late," Owen said in a strained voice. "It's moved them somewhere else."

"There's nothing more we can do," Ross said quietly. "We may as well head back to One Police Plaza."

"They won't get away from it again," Gwen said softly. "It won't give them that chance."

"Well, if you have any ideas for us, Miss Cooper," Ross said, a little more harshly than he really intended, "then please enlighten us."

Gwen's shoulders slumped. She had nothing to offer at all. Ross nodded, not unsympathetic to her, and spoke up for everyone else to hear.

"All right, people. Let's pack it up and get back to One Police Plaza."

"So that's it?" someone asked. "We're just giving up?"

"Did I say that, Reilly?" Ross snapped. "We have other options. Now, let's get moving!"

"Care to tell us about these other options?" Owen asked Ross once they were back in the Torchwood SUV. Ross twisted around in his seat to look at Tosh.

"Can you keep monitoring for power surges? Like the one that happened back at the power plant?"

Tosh nodded, and from the look on her face Ross guessed that she had already thought of doing it.

"Yes, I can. And now that I have a record of the specifics of that surge, it should make it easier to differentiate between normal power fluctuations, and surges caused by the Grysliaak. We should be able to track it down, except..."

She trailed off, suddenly uneasy.

"What is it, Tosh?" Gwen asked.

"Well... it seems that the surges happen when the Grysliaak is... you know... feeding. Which means..."

She hesitated again, and this time Ross spoke up.

"Which means we'll only get our next lead on it when it's attacking one of them."

"Crap," Mike muttered. "No offence, but I hope to God that it sticks to feeding off Harkness."

"None taken, mate," Owen retorted. "None taken."

* * *

Jack came back to life with a wheeze, rather than a gasp, feeling like all the air had been squashed out of his lungs. He lay still for a minute, taking the time to reassure himself that he was, indeed, alive before opening his eyes.

At first, he couldn't see anything. It was dark – almost black. He blinked, straining to see through the darkness. They were underground… or so he guessed, by the dank scent that invaded his nostrils. Also, it wasn't true to say that it was totally dark, he realised distantly as his senses began to regain strength. There was a faint light coming from somewhere… although, where he didn't know and wasn't bothered to speculate.

As his vision slowly cleared and the dark became a little less absolute, he was able to make out a figure sitting close by. It took him just a moment to recognise who it was.

"I… Ianto…?"

His voice was little more than a hoarse, and he coughed painfully in a wasted attempt to clear it. Ianto looked down at Jack, but made no attempt to move.

"Welcome back."

Jack frowned. There was something off in the other man's voice, and as he became more aware, he realised Ianto was holding his right arm very gingerly against his body. Grunting softly, Jack pushed himself awkwardly up into a sitting position.

"You're hurt."

It wasn't a question, and Ianto made no effort to deny it.

"Just my arm," Ianto told him. "I think it may be broken."

"Son of a bitch…"

"I'm all right, Jack. Really, it's just my arm. I'm not the one who needs help."

It took a few long seconds for Ianto's words to sink in, but then Jack suddenly realised what Ianto was talking about, and he looked around in shock. Bobby lay nearby, pale and unmoving and, by all appearances, barely breathing.

"What happened?" Jack asked hoarsely as he crawled over to the unconscious detective.

"The Grysliaak," Ianto answered in a strained voice. "It came back. You hadn't revived, and it was angry. It wanted to feed, it was screaming that it was hungry. Then… It came at me. Bobby was quick, though. I didn't think someone as big as him could be so quick. He pushed me out of the way, but he couldn't get clear himself, the same as with the weevil. The Grysliaak attacked him, Jack. He was dying, and I couldn't just sit back and do nothing… so I hit it."

Jack blinked, stunned.

"You… hit it?"

"It's in human form now, Jack. Completely solid human form. There are _some_ advantages for us in that. I hit it, and knocked it away from Bobby… split its lip, actually."

Jack winced involuntarily at that. He had been on the receiving end of a punch like that from Ianto, and he could just imagine the Grysliaak's shock.

"You stopped it from killing him," Jack said, but Ianto ignored the statement and continued talking quietly.

"It was angry… so angry. It threw me into the wall. I think that's when I broke my arm. Then it left. That was about ten or fifteen minutes ago. I tried to help Bobby, but… Jack, I think he's dying."

Jack crawled over to where Bobby lay, taking in his ashen face with a distinct chill of fear. Ianto was right. Bobby was fighting for his life, and it was a fight that he was steadily losing. His breathing was shallow at best, and his pulse was so faint that Jack nearly couldn't find it at all. He was dying, and he had just a few minutes left at the most.

"Wh… What are you doing?" Ianto asked in confusion as Jack sat down carefully and lifted Bobby's upper body up off the floor to cradle him in his arms. "Jack…?"

Jack glanced up at Ianto in the dim light.

"I've got a surplus of life, remember?"

And then he leaned over and closed his lips firmly over Bobby's, sealing the other man's mouth with a life-restoring kiss.

Ianto knelt there, staring with wide eyes as Jack appeared to kiss Bobby fairly ferociously. For a moment, he couldn't understand what Jack was doing, but then a memory came to him. He remembered waking up in the Hub with Jack's face hovering above his own, and a very distinct and unmistakable taste on his lips.

Jack had said nothing about it to him afterwards – not even weeks down the track – and Ianto had shoved the memory to the back of his mind, attributing it to the Captain's apparently permanently aroused state. Now, though, watching as Jack pressed his lips to Bobby's in a crushing kiss, Ianto began to realise for the first time how wrong he had been.

He watched in breathless hope, not entirely sure what he expected to see. Nearly a minute passed, and Ianto thought he could just make out a soft, golden glow. Then, abruptly, Jack pulled away and Bobby came to with a start.

Confusion adorned the detective's face as he realised that he was currently being cradled in Jack's arms. He tried to push himself up, but Jack wouldn't allow him to do so.

"Stay still, Bobby," Jack advised him softly. "You're going to feel fairly weak for a little while yet. I couldn't give you back everything the Grysliaak took from you."

"Wh… What did you do?" Bobby asked hoarsely. Jack smiled faintly and, unable to help himself, he allowed his fingers to play lightly through Bobby's salt and pepper curls.

"Just gave you a little boost, that's all."

A slight frown flickered across Bobby's face, and his tongue poked out slightly to run briefly over his lips.

"Did… you just… kiss me?"

Jack's smile widened just fractionally.

"If it makes you feel any better, just think of it as mouth to mouth resuscitation. I won't apologise for it. Damned if I was going to let you up and die on me, after you saved Ianto's life."

Bobby finally relaxed, then.

"Well… He saved me, too."

A wistful smile flickered across Jack's face. Here was a strong, intelligent and, dare he add, handsome man who had come face to face with some true horrors, and barely flinched. Screw the Doctor, he decided. Not literally, of course, but he could always hope…

He shook himself back to reality, and smiled down at the pale man still held securely in his arms.

"If you ever feel like you've gone as far as you can with the NYPD, Bobby, and you want a real challenge, call me. I'd love to have you in Torchwood."

Bemused, Bobby slowly pushed himself up, and this time Jack let him.

"Trying to poach me from my squad, Captain Harkness?"

Jack grinned.

"Yep," he said, utterly unapologetic. "Interested?"

In all honesty, he hadn't really expected Bobby to show any serious interest. He could see all too clearly how devoted Bobby was to the NYPD, and he wasn't going to make a serious effort to take the other man away from that if he really didn't want to go. Subsequently, he was more than a little surprised when Bobby appeared to be seriously considering the offer.

"Who would I have to answer to?" he asked softly.

"Just to me," Jack answered seriously. "We might have to kiss political ass once every few years to get extra funding, but beyond that the only one who has any influence over what we do, and how, is the Doctor."

"I… might be," Bobby admitted finally, quietly. Jack glanced across at Ianto, then, anticipating disapproval from the other man, and was both surprised and relieved when Ianto smiled and nodded.

"Good," Jack murmured. "Well, now we have another reason to get out of here in one piece." He got to his feet, and promptly collapsed again as his still-weak knees buckled beneath him. "Ah, crap…"

"Take it easy, Jack," Ianto told him as he edged closer. "No point rushing to get up. All we know is that we're underground somewhere now. We have no idea where."

"And if we go walk-about down here," Bobby added tiredly, "odds are we'll never get out again."

Jack conceded, if only because he knew that his body wouldn't be going anywhere under its own steam for a little while yet. Giving so much energy back to Bobby after having only just come back to life himself had left him feeling drained and weak. He dared not say so, though. The last thing he needed was to give Bobby a guilt trip that was completely undeserved.

"Okay," he conceded with a sigh, his shoulders slumping a little. Silence followed for the next few minutes, and was broken finally by Bobby.

"I don't suppose you worked out why I was getting sick at each of those crime scenes?"

"No clue," Jack admitted. "Maybe it's something the Doctor can explain… if he comes."

"He will," Ianto assured him quietly. "Detective Eames is smart. She'll have told Owen… or Gwen, and they'll call Martha. You'll see. We'll be fine."

Jack looked down wordlessly at his bare wrist, where his vortex manipulator had once fitted so comfortably against his flesh. And, perhaps for the first time ever, in the silence and the pervasive dark, Jack Harkness doubted.

* * *

_Mt Sinai Hospital_

Alex had long given up trying to sleep. Firstly, she was worried sick about Bobby. Secondly, her head was still pounding, and the drugs she'd been given were starting to wear off. And thirdly… Thirdly, she was worried sick about Bobby.

Thoughts of Ianto also occupied her mind, too, although admittedly to a considerably lesser degree. After all, Ianto had the mighty Jack Harkness to protect him. She couldn't envisage the enigmatic Captain going out of his way to protect Bobby as well. As far as Jack went, her concerns most certainly didn't stretch to him. The man couldn't die, so what harm was all of this going to really do to him? Bobby and Ianto were the ones whose lives were in danger.

Even as she thought that, though, she couldn't help feel a twinge of guilt. She knew as well as anyone that in some cases there really were worse fates than dying. She suspected that Jack Harkness knew that as well, and probably better than she or anyone else ever could.

A soft moan escaped her lips as a fresh wave of pain rolled through her head, but she resisted the desire to summon a nurse and ask for more painkillers. What she needed was a distraction, like that which the young Torchwood doctor had given her after she'd been formally admitted. Granted, it must have seemed strange to Mike to walk in and find her laughing when her partner was God only knew where.

In her defence, though, she'd been suffering a monster concussion, and had only just been given drugs to combat the effects. Truthfully, she really hadn't been too clear-headed when Mike had arrived.

She sighed again, wishing that she had something… or someone… else to focus on, in order to distract her from the god-awful pain in her skull, even if it was Owen bloody Harper telling some moronic and patently unbelievable story.

Gradually, her eyes strayed to the telephone. She'd tried the number of that Martha Jones woman several times throughout the later afternoon, after wheedling the number out of Mike earlier. He'd been on his way out to Long Island, if she remembered rightly, after getting some lead on the whereabouts of their missing colleagues. She could keep trying the number, she'd insisted, while they did whatever they had to do, and she would let them know if she had any luck getting through.

So far, though, nothing.

Alex felt the frustration creeping up on her once more. There wasn't even an answering machine. Who, in this day and age, didn't have an answering machine?

She could feel the urge growing to try again, and resisted it. What point was there when it was now… what? Just after midnight in London. Who in their right mind would answer their phone at that time of the night?

No, she thought miserably. It was best to just lie back down, shut her eyes and try to get some sleep. Except, sleep would not come, and she found herself engulfed by a wave of nearly paralysing fear for Bobby's safety.

The Long Island lead had come up empty. Apparently, according to Mike, Bobby and the other two had been held there at the target location at some point. It was estimated that they'd missed them by perhaps just a matter of minutes.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. So close, and yet so far, literally, and now they had nothing. Sure, Mike had been spouting all sorts of semi-coherent techno babble that she doubted he even really understood himself, but it all came down to the same thing in the end. Bobby was still missing, and they still had no idea where he was.

Gradually, she became aware of something smooth and solid in her hand, and she looked down in surprise to discover she'd picked up the phone without realising it, as though some deep instinct was urging her to try just one more time.

Stupid, she thought dimly. Stupid and pointless. And yet, she couldn't stop her fingers from dialling Martha Jones' number once more, despite the lateness of the hour. One more, she assured herself. She would try just once more, and then that was it. They would officially be on their own. The very thought sent nauseating chills through her body.

Grimacing, Alex Eames finished dialling the number, waited for the connection and then listened in heavy silence as the phone rang at the other end.

* * *

_London  
__Approximately midnight_

Martha Jones groaned softly to herself as she awoke to the unwelcome sound of the ringing phone. Deciding it was far too early to even consider answering the phone, she grabbed a pillow and pulled it over her head. A moment later, the ringing stopped, which meant that either whoever was calling had hung up, or someone else in the house had answered the call. The latter proved to be true when she heard her mother's irate voice, even through her bedroom door and through the pillow she was holding over her head.

"…_Do you have even the slightest idea of what the time is_…"

Martha smirked to herself. Whoever it was, they would never dare to call again after her mother was through with them. Still grinning, she pulled her head out from under the pillow and settled back down in bed, with every intention of going back to sleep. Her hopes were dashed, though, when the bedroom door opened, and her mother spoke.

"Martha, it's for you."

Martha groaned again.

"It's the middle of the night, Mum! Tell 'em to call back tomorrow, whoever it is."

"It's a police officer, Martha, from New York in America. She said it's about Jack."

Martha snapped awake, her heart skipping a beat at the mention of Jack's name. Sitting up, she took the phone from her mother, and spoke into it anxiously.

"Hello?"

"_Martha Jones?"_

"Who is this?"

"_My name is Alex Eames, Miss Jones. I'm a detective with the New York Police Department's Major Case Squad. I'm sorry about this, but I was told to call you and pass on a specific message."_

"Well, spit it out, then," Martha growled. "What message?"

"_It might sound a little strange_…_"_

Martha couldn't resist laughing.

"You'd be surprised at what I think is strange. Just say it, would you?"

There was a momentary silence on the other end of the phone.

"_Okay, here goes. The message is, the Captain needs his Doctor."_

Martha went cold all over, and any hints of amusement evaporated from her face in the space of an instant.

"Martha, honey, what is it?" Francine asked softly. Martha looked up at her, fear in her eyes.

"Something's happened to Jack." And then, to the disembodied voice on the phone, "Is that all? Is that the only thing you can tell me?"

"_One other thing. Grysliaak_._"_

Martha frowned, confused.

"Grysliaak?"

Behind her, Francine uttered a strangled gasp, and Martha twisted around to look at her.

"Mum? What is it?"

"When we were on the Valiant," Francine said shakily. "The Master brought a creature on board. He called it a Grysliaak, and he set it onto Jack. It survived by draining the life of its victims."

Shaken, Martha spoke into the phone once more.

"Please tell me, where is Jack?"

"_Missing,"_ Alex answered grimly. _"Along with one person from his team, and one of our detectives. Apparently Ianto Jones was supposed to call you with that message if something happened to Jack, but then he was taken along with Jack. We've been trying to reach you for hours, and this is the first time we've gotten through."_

Martha was starting to feel sick. She knew as well as anyone what could go wrong in a matter of minutes, let alone hours.

"Okay," she said, fighting to calm down. "Thankyou."

"_Miss Jones, about this Doctor_…_"_

"Never you mind about him," Martha interrupted before Alex could go any further. "Just tell whoever's there from Jack's team that the Doctor's on his way."

She ended the call before anymore questions could be asked, and then drew in a shaky breath.

"It's okay… It's gonna be fine. Jack can't die, he's fine…"

"He may not be able to die, Martha," Francine said softly, "but he can still feel pain. And that thing… Oh God, poor Jack… We could hear him screaming, Martha… It was agony for him. And the Master let that… _thing_ have its way with him over and over again…"

Tears filled Francine's eyes at the memories, and spilled down her cheeks. Martha felt the nausea roll through her stomach as the implications of her mother's words hit home. Somewhere, Jack was in the clutches of a monstrous creature that was capable of causing him absolute, unending agony…

Her heart in her throat, Martha switched the phone back on and dialled a long-remembered number, praying that the one at the other end would answer it.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Vortex_

When the mobile phone began ringing, at first he didn't realise what it was. To start with, he thought the Tardis had begun to make bizarre noises again. He listened to it for half a minute and was just reaching for the mallet when Donna spoke up with a mixture of amusement and irritation.

"Are you gonna answer that?"

And then he remembered. The mobile phone Martha had given him, with the words that he'd better be ready to come running when it rang… His two hearts skipped just slightly. Martha…

Fumbling through his many pockets, he finally produced the phone and flipped it open. Feeling slightly foolish, for he was fairly certain he knew who was on the other end, he still spoke very tentatively, just in case.

"Hello…?"

"_Doctor? It's me_._"_

The Doctor sighed faintly with relief, and spoke with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Martha! How are you?"

"_I'm fine, but Jack isn't."_

He started a little at the abrupt statement.

"What…?"

"_Doctor, you have to come back to Earth, __**right now**__. Jack's in trouble. He's in New York, and I think he's been captured by a… a… Oh, Mum, what was it again?" _The Doctor heard the muffled voice of Francine Jones speaking, and then Martha's voice came through again. _"Right, a Grysliaak."_

The Doctor froze, a feeling of horror permeating his entire being that was rapidly replaced with a white-hot rage. He didn't stop to think. He didn't need to. He spoke four simple words in a quiet voice that was full of threat for the thing that was hurting… nay, probably torturing his friend.

"I'm on my way."

* * *

_tbc..._


	18. The Waiting Game

_One Police Plaza_

Mike snapped his cell phone shut, and his breath caught in his throat as Alex's words echoed in his ears. She'd gotten through to Martha Jones. The Doctor... whatever or whoever the hell the Doctor was... was on his way. He shut his eyes for a moment, feeling a rush of relief that was tinged strongly with a pervasive sense of unease. Help was coming, finally.

"Logan, no time for a catnap, pal," Jackson said, nudging his shoulder as he passed by. Mike grimaced and swung his feet off the edge of his desk, getting up.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Is Ross back from meeting with the Chief?"

"Yeah. He's in talking with those Torchwood guys."

"Great," Mike murmured, and headed for the task room.

"Logan?" Jackson asked, sensing a sudden change in atmosphere around the other detective. "What's going on?"

Mike paused, glancing back at Jackson.

"Cavalry's coming," he said simply. Then he headed on towards the first of the task rooms. Jackson watched him go before turning away and muttering grimly to himself.

"Just hope it's not too late."

* * *

Ross couldn't resist the pull of curiosity, and he eagerly took the opportunity to sit back and observe the three remaining members of Torchwood. Only hours ago, if someone had asked him how he thought the team would cope without their captain, he would have said without hesitation that they would fall apart. Even to an observer like him, who had only known them for a few days, it was painfully obvious that Jack Harkness was the glue that held them together. In the wake of the Captain's abduction, though, the remaining members had certainly stumbled, but not fallen. And then, even as Ross watched, they picked themselves up, found their stride and almost literally surged forward.

Even though Owen Harper seemed to be second in command, Gwen Cooper had stepped up to the plate and taken charge. Her colleagues followed her lead with confidence and absolute trust, and with every decision Gwen made, her confidence grew.

Ross was especially impressed by their resilience and determination, given the grim situation they were all facing. It would have been too easy to crumble and give up, and none of them had. All the same, all the determination in the world didn't change the fact that they were getting nowhere fast. There had been no further power surges to give them a clue as to the Grysliaak's whereabouts, and Ross thought he knew why.

One thing that Jack had told them about the creature was that the Grysliaak was gradually assimilating human form. Ross suspect that assimilation was now complete, effectively ruling out any chance of tracking it via power surges. The grim truth was that despite all efforts, none of them could see a way out of this that wouldn't result in the deaths of Bobby Goren and Ianto Jones. As for Jack Harkness...

Ross had always believed that there were some fates that were worse than death, and he couldn't imagine a worse fate than being kept as a replenishable source of food for a monster.

"Excuse us," Owen said abruptly, breaking Ross out of his reverie, "but are you planning to offer anything even remotely helpful, or are you happy to just stand there gawking?"

Ross regarded Owen with a mixture of annoyance and bemusement.

"Are you always this rude to your own captain?"

"All the time," Owen answered flippantly. "Especially when he's being an insufferable prat, which is frequently. It's part of the reason he hired me in the first place, because I don't try to kiss his arse twenty-four seven."

Ross raised an eyebrow. Owen's words were deprecating, but he could read between the lines as well as anyone, and he could hear a distinct tone of respect in the man's voice as he spoke about Jack.

"If any of my detectives were as disrespectful as that, I'd have them up for insubordination," he remarked calmly, at the same time giving himself yet another mental reminder to show Bobby a little more appreciation if... no, not if. _When_ they rescued him. Owen didn't appear the slightest bit perturbed.

"Yes, well, Jack isn't you, is he?"

"Just as well, too," Tosh retorted, throwing Owen a dirty look. "Considering Owen shot him."

Ross did a double-take.

"You _shot _him?"

"In my defence, I wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time," Owen said.

"None of us were," Gwen said quietly. "It's difficult to explain, Captain Ross. There were things happening, and we were all being manipulated by these... visions. Jack was the only one of us who wasn't affected, because he was the only one who never saw anything. We all turned on him... Four against one... We made a terrible mistake, and we nearly lost Jack permanently because of it. The way we talk to... and about him... might seem disrespectful to you, but the truth is we couldn't respect him more. We love him. He's not just our leader, Captain Ross. He's our friend... our brother... He's everything to us."

Ross nodded, unable to help being affected by her heartfelt words.

"I believe you. I can see it in your faces. But the bottom line is that it still doesn't get us any closer to finding them."

Not for the first time, frustration flashed across Gwen's face, along with a healthy dose of fear.

"I don't know," she admitted finally. "I just don't know what to do. Bobby and Ianto are going to die, and Jack's going to be lost to that... _thing_... and I couldn't be more fucking useless!"

Ross could see the downward spiral into despair and hysteria almost before it began. Hoping that an unorthodox response was the right approach with this unorthodox team, he stepped in and grasped Gwen firmly by the shoulders, bringing her panic attack to a halt before it had a chance to begin.

"Stop right there, Miss Cooper. You're not going to do anyone any good, least of all yourself, by going down that track."

Gwen stared at him, struggling against the sense of utter hopelessness that threatened to swallow her up.

"We don't even know where to start."

Ross drew in a long breath. Eames would probably ream him a new one for this, but he had to do something.

"Twelve months ago, Detective Eames was abducted by a serial killer. She was missing for twelve hours, and I think you can all understand how long twelve hours can seem in a desperate situation. We had very few clues, no idea where to begin looking, and our only suspect was uncooperative... and, as it turned out in the end, innocent. We had no way of knowing if Detective Eames was alive, but we did not quit. She was found safe in the end, mainly due to her own ingenuity, but we didn't give up hoping. We never give up. The only time we stop is when we find a body. Until we actually find the bodies, we are not going to give up now, either on my detective or your colleagues. As long as there are no bodies to prove otherwise, we have to believe that they're still alive. Are you hearing me, Miss Cooper?"

Gwen nodded slowly, grateful for the much-needed support. Stepping back from her, Ross spoke again.

"What about this Martha Jones woman? Have you tried to reach her again?"

"Not since we came back from the power plant," Tosh said. "We should try her again now."

"No need," a new voice said, and they looked around to see Mike standing there in the doorway. How long he'd been there, Ross decided he didn't want to know.

"Why not, Logan?" he asked. Mike stepped all the way into the room.

"Because I just spoke to Eames. She got through. We've got a message back. The Doctor is on his way."

Owen let his breath out in a rush.

"That's it, then. All we can do now is sit back and brace ourselves, 'cause when he gets here, all hell is gonna break loose."

"I thought he could fix all of this," Mike growled, feeling that sense of unease rise up in his gut once more.

"Oh, he can, mate," Owen agreed. "But this is the Doctor we're talking about. He sent the Sycorax packing... ended the battle of Canary Wharf... Story goes that he's the last surviving Time Lord, from a world that was erased clean out of existence. He's known as the Oncoming Storm, and he didn't get that name by accident."

Ross and Mike exchanged bemused looks.

"Is that supposed to scare us?" Mike wondered. Owen had the grace to look mildly embarrassed.

"Yeah, well, sorry about that. That sort of thing always sounds better coming from Ianto. He's got the voice for it, you know? Creepy Welsh accent, and all that." He paused, suddenly conscious of the glare that was being directed at him from Gwen. "Sorry. No offence, darlin'."

Gwen rolled her eyes, and looked back to Ross, who sighed inwardly before speaking.

"So... what do we do, then?"

All hints of amusement fled Owen's face, and he spoke in a sombre voice.

"Only thing we can do, Captain Ross. We wait."

* * *

_London_

Martha didn't wait so much as a second before scrambling out of bed and grabbing the first clothes she could find. As she hurriedly dressed, it occurred to her that her mother wasn't saying a word of protest.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I think I'm doing?" she asked. Francine shook her head.

"Jack is in trouble, Martha. You don't need to justify anything to me."

Martha smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, Mum."

"Promise me something, Martha," Francine told her daughter softly as they headed downstairs.

"What is it?"

"When you find Jack, there's something that I want you to do."

"What is it, Mum? Spit it out, the Doctor could be here any second."

"Just hold him, Martha. Let him know he's not alone."

Martha stared at her mother, puzzled, before hurrying out the door.

"Don't be daft, Mum. Why would he think he's alone? He's got his whole team with him."

Francine looked decidedly frustrated as she followed Martha out.

"Martha, I love you, and I know you went through hell just like the rest of us, but you do not know half of what went on aboard that ship. I don't care what Jack, or anyone else, says. No one could go through what Jack went through, and not be scarred by it."

Martha felt a chill rush through her at her mother's words, and she turned slowly back to stare at her.

"Mum? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Just, do what I asked?" Francine insisted softly. Then, after pressing a loving kiss to her daughter's cheek, she turned and disappeared back into the house. Martha had no time to dwell on her mother's words. The door had barely swung closed behind Francine before she heard the familiar grinding sound of the Tardis' engines, and the ship materialised in the middle of the street, right in front of her. The doors were thrown open with exaggerated flamboyance, and the Doctor strode out into the street.

"Doctor..." Martha greeted him.

"Where, Martha?" the Doctor demanded, striding right up until they were almost nose to nose. "Tell me where he is!"

"I don't know exactly," she stammered, taken slightly aback by the ferocity in his manner. "All I know is what I told you on the phone."

"But where?" the Doctor burst out. "Where in New York? Awfully big city, and believe me when I say it's grown a _lot_ since we were there last."

"Oh, right... Um... Well, that detective I spoke to on the phone said she was with the Major Case Squad. Does that help?"

"Major Case Squad?" the Doctor echoed, frowning deeply. "New York Police Department... There's only one Major Case Squad in New York, and that's housed in One Police Plaza. Right, I'll work out the coordinates on the way."

He turned and practically ran back into the Tardis, with Martha right behind him. He paused to look at her even as he was reaching for the time rotor controls.

"Martha..."

"Don't you dare tell me I'm not coming, Doctor," she told him in a warning tone. "This is Jack we're talking about. He's my friend, too, and if he's in enough trouble for you to come running like this, then you're not leaving me behind."

The Doctor hesitated only a moment before initiating the dematerialisation sequence, and sending the Tardis into the time vortex and on its way to present day New York City.

"Oi, is someone going to tell me what's going on already?" a voice demanded, and Martha looked around to see an unfamiliar woman standing nearby. When it became obvious that the Doctor wasn't planning on introducing them, Martha took it upon herself to do so.

"Hiya. I'm Martha. Martha Jones. And you are...?"

"Donna Noble," the other woman answered, accepting Martha's outstretched hand with some reluctance. "Don't s'pose you know what's going on? He hasn't said a word to me since he answered that ruddy phone call. Just ran around muttering to himself like a loon."

"A friend of ours is in trouble," Martha explained, instinctively grabbing hold of the rail for support as the Tardis gave a violent shudder. "We're going to help him... I hope."

Donna snorted.

"You know he can barely fly this thing? Never lands where he wants it to land."

"Usually, yeah," Martha agreed, watching the Doctor's almost manic actions out of the corner of her eye. "Except when something really important is at stake. Then, he never gets it wrong."

Donna raised an eyebrow.

"This friend of yours that important?"

Martha stared at the Doctor, taking in the fury and sheer concentration that radiated out from him.

"Yeah," she answered finally in a soft voice. "He is."

* * *

_Early the following morning  
__One Police Plaza_

None of them left the squad room that night; all of them waiting for something and yet not knowing exactly what. Even Gwen, Owen and Tosh seemed to be in the dark, none of them knowing what was going to happen when the Doctor arrived. Therefore, when Alex walked back into the squad room early in the morning, with her head still sporting a bandage, there was no chance of slipping in unnoticed.

"Ross is going to pitch a fit when he sees you," Mike said flatly as Alex walked stubbornly past him. "You should still be in the hospital."

"I got myself discharged," she answered. They exchanged stares, and she spoke again defensively. "I'm okay, Mike. Really, I am. I'm better off here worrying myself sick along with the rest of you, than worrying myself sick on my own in a hospital room."

Mike conceded to that. He knew damned well that he would have felt exactly the same in her position.

"Fine. Just... don't go getting yourself all stressed and frantic, okay? The rest of us are doing enough of that, believe me."

Alex looked up at him, taking in his pale and drawn features, and the circles under his eyes.

"Have you been up all night?"

A wan smile stretched almost grotesquely across his lips.

"And you haven't?"

She had to concede that. The painkillers she'd been given the previous evening had done nothing to help her sleep, and consequently she had spent the entire night wide awake and struggling with the deepset terror she felt for her missing partner. In all truth, she'd harboured some small hope that she would have walked in this morning to find that this mysterious Doctor had already arrived and set things to rights. As much as she knew it was a pointless expectation, there had been a tiny part of her that had fully hoped to find Bobby sitting back at his desk when she walked in, as if nothing had happened.

It was a foolish hope, and one that she kept carefully to herself.

"No sign of this Doctor, whoever he is?" she asked softly. Mike shook his head.

"No. I don't think even those Torchwood guys know what to expect... or how he's even going to get here. Ross asked them where he's coming from, and none of them could answer. Closest we got was Toshiko saying he could be coming from anywhere. Personally, I think they know just about as much as we do, which is zip."

"Eames!"

"Oh, great," Alex muttered as Ross's voice literally exploded across the squad room. "Here we go..."

Ross strode across the floor, glowering at his detective in visible frustration.

"What the hell are you doing here? You should still be in the hospital!"

Alex stared at him fully, as though daring him to try ordering her back to Mt Sinai.

"I left," she said flatly.

"Obviously," Ross growled. "Why?"

"Captain, I really don't need to stay in the hospital. It'd just drive me crazy. I might as well be here, where I know at least as much as the rest of you what's going on, than lying in a bed halfway across Manhattan, and calling you every five minutes demanding to know what's going on."

Ross raised an eyebrow at her, realising ruefully just how right she was. He had to try at least once more, though, if only to settle his own conscience.

"I suppose there's no chance of convincing you to go home, then?"

Alex didn't even bother replying to that, and Ross sighed and nodded.

"Thought not. Logan, keep an eye on her."

Mike nodded, deliberately ignoring the angry glare that Alex directed at him.

"No worries, Captain."

Ross nodded, and continued on to his office. Alex watched him go, and then looked back to Mike.

"Is this all we're doing, then? Just sitting around on our asses, doing nothing...?"

"Waiting, Alex," he countered gently. "We're waiting. It's all we can do."

"Bobby is God knows where... having God only knows what happening to him... and we're _waiting_?"

He laid a hand on her shoulder, though she wasn't sure whether it was meant to be comforting or something else. Then, he headed back to his own desk, leaving her with a pile of paperwork that she had no hope of concentrating on.

Exhaling loudly in frustration, Alex started shuffling through the pages aimlessly. She was trying so hard to focus on those pages that she didn't immediately notice the strange grinding sound that broke the quiet atmosphere. It wasn't until the papers on her desk suddenly exploded into her face from a gust of wind that came literally from nowhere, that she finally realised something very startling was happening.

She looked up, flapping pages away from her face, and noticing out of the corner of her eye that her fellow detectives were all having the same problem. The noise and disturbance had brought an angry and irritated Ross out of his office, and the three remaining members of Torchwood had also emerged from the task room, where they had been doing whatever it was that they did.

She heard Mike swearing loudly on the other side of the bullpen, but even as she looked across to where he should have been sitting, there was suddenly a large blue box appearing right smack in the middle of all their desks – a blue box with the words Police Box around the top and a bright flashing light on the very top.

The grinding noise wound down, and the box became a visible, solid fixture in the centre of the Major Case bullpen. Silence reigned in the room as all present stared in utter shock. A quick glance revealed that Gwen, Owen and Toshiko all appeared similarly stunned, although Alex thought she saw a flicker of recognition in their faces at the sight of it.

Ross was the first to find his voice, and he strode forward with one hand on his gun.

"What the _hell_ is this?" he exploded, his voice laced strongly with anger and a healthy dose of fear. Before anyone had a chance to offer any suggestions, though, the doors of the box swung open and a tall, somewhat lanky man in a brown striped suit and ankle length brown coat emerged.

He stopped just outside the box, looking around fiercely and when he spoke, although he didn't speak particularly loudly, they all found themselves cringing regardless.

"I want Torchwood, front and centre, _right now_," he demanded. Nervous though they looked, Alex had to give them credit that not one of the three hesitated in walking around to face this new arrival.

"Doctor?" Gwen asked tentatively. She had a vague idea of what he looked like from the pictures that had been broadcast of him, his companion and Jack back during the Saxon business, but that was all. It was not so much what he looked like that told Gwen who he was, but rather his entire countenance. In that moment, Gwen believed everything she had heard about the Doctor from the bits and pieces scrapped together about him by Torchwood, and it frightened the hell out of her.

The Doctor stared intently at her, then at Owen, and finally at Toshiko. When his gaze came to rest on the young Japanese woman, though, the anger faded with startling abruptness, and his whole face lit up.

"Dr Sato! Haven't seen you for... well... it'd be a good two and a half years now, wouldn't it!"

Toshiko blinked, taken aback by the unexpectedly cheerful greeting.

"I'm sorry... Have we met before...?"

"Oh yes, although I looked a bit different back then. Big nose, big ears, less hair... It was over a pig in a spacesuit, remember?"

Realisation lit up Toshiko's face.

"Oh, I remember! The spaceship that crashed into Big Ben!"

"You've got it! You weren't working for Torchwood back then, were you?"

She shook her head quickly.

"No, Jack recruited me afterwards. Torchwood One were going to retcon me after that business was all over with, but he wouldn't let them."

"Yes, good old Jack," the Doctor murmured, a thoughtful look filtering onto his face, and he seemed to zone briefly.

"Doctor!" a voice snapped behind him. "Remember why we're here!"

"Oh, right!" And abruptly, the ferocity was back and he looked around with eyes that were piercing in their intensity. "I want to know what's going on, and I want to know right from the beginning. No frills, just give me the facts."

Ross came forward slowly. He didn't understand who this character was. All he knew was a sudden, deep belief that this was the man who could bring a positive end to the terrible situation they were all in.

"I'm Captain Ross," he introduced himself, grateful that he was able to keep his voice steady. "We have a creature somwhere here in New York City that's been murdering citizens. Captain Harkness and his team arrived to help us stop it, and Captain Harkness identified the creature as a Grysliaak. We had a plan to catch it, but it got in first, and it took Captain Harkness captive, along with Ianto Jones and my detective, Detective Goren. They've been missing for nearly twenty-four hours now, and we don't know where to start looking for them."

The Doctor favoured Ross with an appreciative stare.

"To the point. Good. Very good. All right, this Grysliaak..."

"It's the same one, Doctor," Gwen said suddenly, and the Doctor turned a hard stare on her.

"What do you mean?"

Gwen flinched just slightly under the force of his gaze, but didn't back down.

"Jack said it's the same Grysliaak that was on the Valiant. The same one that the Master set onto him."

The Doctor met that revelation with silence, and though they could all see a whirlwind of thoughts in his brown eyes, he didn't speak a word of it to any of them.

"We found this, too," Owen said, and held out Jack's vortex manipulator. The Doctor took it slowly, feeling his hearts sink. Had Jack still had his manipulator, whether it was working or not, he would have been able to track it in the Tardis, directly to wherever Jack was.

Behind him, Martha edged out of the Tardis and worked her way around until she could see what the Doctor was holding.

"That's Jack manipulator!" she burst out. "How're we gonna find him now?"

"We can do it," the Doctor said, staring at the manipulator intently. "But it's going to take longer, because the old girl still isn't too sure about him, and she's going to take some convincing to lock onto his biosignature. On the other hand, once I convince her to do that, we should be able to locate him pretty quickly. Because believe me, Jack has a very unique biosignature. No one else in the universe has one like him."

"The old girl...?" Mike asked, frowning, and the Doctor patted the box affectionately.

"My ship, of course."

Mike promptly turned away, coughing something under his breath that sounded something suspiciously like 'lunatic' under his breath. The Doctor favoured Mike with a harsh stare before dismissing him entirely.

"All right. Who's coming and who's staying?" He motioned towards Mike, who had looked back sharply. "Not him. I don't have that sort of time to waste."

Gwen, Owen and Tosh all piled into the Tardis without hesitation. Alex started forward, only to find herself stopped by Ross.

"Eames..."

"No," she snapped angrily. "Don't tell me I can't go. My partner is out there somewhere, Captain, and I'm not going to stay behind just because of a lousy bump on the head! God knows I've had worse in my life, and so has Bobby, and neither one of us has ever abandoned the other, and I don't intend on starting now! I don't understand how this is going to work, and I don't know what we're going to face, but that isn't what matters now. What matters is my partner, and I'll be damned it I'm going to stay behind when he's in danger, so don't ask me to something that I _can't_ do."

She had started off making her case to Ross, but by the time she'd finished talking, she found herself facing the Doctor, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow and a critical gaze. He hesitated just a fraction of a second before stepping to the side and motioning towards the open doorway of the Tardis.

"After you, Detective."

With a mixture of surprise, relief and determination on her face, Alex walked past him into the ship. The Doctor then looked to Ross.

"What about you, Captain Ross?"

It was all the Doctor said, but Ross heard a world of questions in the other's tone. More than anything, he could almost hear the Doctor asking did he have the courage that Eames was showing, to face a relatively unknown danger, and risk his life for what was really important.

Squaring his jaw, Ross strode past the Doctor into the Tardis. Martha then hurried back inside, but the Doctor paused a moment longer. His gaze fixed upon Mike, who was staring back at the Doctor with a combination of disbelief and hope.

"We'll be back. You'd better be ready."

With that, he disappeared back into the Tardis, the door swinging closed behind him.

* * *

"Smaller on the outside, bigger on the inside," the Doctor shouted as he charged up the ramp to the controls. "Welcome to the Tardis! Yes, she's an alien ship. Yes, she can fly. Yes, she can travel through time and space. Yes, she is a sentient ship, so you'd better be damn careful what you say and think, because she can hear and understand every word. Now, any other questions any of you want to waste my time with before we see about rescuing our friends?"

Startled silence reigned, and then Owen muttered under his breath to Gwen and Tosh.

"And Jack actually spent a hundred and thirty years chasing after him?"

The Doctor shot Owen a look that had the young medic wincing.

"Don't ask questions about something that you can't understand. Any other idiot questions?"

There was another long silence, and then Alex spoke up.

"Can we get this show on the road? We have three colleagues waiting to be saved."

A grin spread slowly but surely over the Doctor's face.

"Excellent question. And the answer to that is absolutely!"

He turned his attention to the Tardis' controls, but rather than initiate the dematerialisation sequence, he instead started murmuring to the ship in a language that none of them recognised.

"What's he doing?" Ross asked, trying not to sound nervous. It was Martha who spoke.

"He's talking to the Tardis in his own language, in Gallifreyan. You heard him before. He has to convince her to search out Jack. That's what he's doing."

"Why, though?" Tosh wondered in confusion. "Why wouldn't she want to? Didn't Jack used to travel with the Doctor?"

"It's... complicated," Martha said, suddenly seeming somewhat uncomfortable. She remembered vividly the conversation that took place on Malcassairo between Jack and the Doctor, before everything quite literally went to hell, and somehow she didn't think Jack's team would appreciate hearing him being labelled 'wrong'. She didn't especially like that tag herself, and if he was so wrong, then her family would not have taken him into their hearts the way they had during That Year.

Finally, knowing that she couldn't adequately explain it, she spoke again.

"It's just complicated, is all."

Over by the consol, the Doctor had suddenly shifted from speaking in Gallifreyan to very loud and frustrated English.

"Don't be so stubborn! It's Jack! Your Jack! He's still the same person… well, more or less… but look at what he went through to save you. Remember all those burns you helped him to heal from? Yes, I know you remember. He got those from destroying the paradox machine. C'mon, old girl. I know it's hard, but this is _our_ Jack, and he needs our help! C'mon, please… Don't you remember? Jack, who gave his life to buy me just a few more seconds on Satellite Five… _Our_ Jack, who saved our Rose…"

Those last words had barely left his lips when the consol and time rotor lights, which had been pulsing dully up until that moment , suddenly exploded into near-blinding brilliance, and the engines roared to life.

A manic grin lit up the Doctor's face, and he began to push and pull levers and hammer buttons in seemingly random succession.

"Here we go! Hang on, everyone, we're on our way!"

All passengers made a frantic grab at the nearest solid fixtures as a violent shudder passed through the Tardis. They were finally on their way, and each of them offered up a silent prayer that they were not already too late.

* * *

_tbc..._


	19. Conversations on the Run

A/N: _No, I hadn't forgotten about this one... or my other fics. My muse took a sudden, very vicious detour, and it took much negotiation to get her to cooperate again. In the meanwhile, all I can say is poor, poor Jack. I am back to my sadistic best. If you care to see for yourselves, check out the website "A Teaspoon and an Open Mind", and look for my profile there. Same moniker. Enjoy. More or less. Probably less. _

* * *

He'd come to a decision, after an indeterminable time spent arguing with himself over the rights and wrongs of it. Neither Ianto nor Bobby would be happy with him over it, but with any luck they would both be well out of danger by the time they realised what he was doing.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the Doctor. He did, with every fibre of his being. But he had no way of knowing whether the Doctor even knew he was in trouble. Ianto had said that Detective Eames was smart, and he agreed wholeheartedly. She _was_ smart, but she'd also taken a damned hard knock to the head, from what he'd seen. There was no telling when, or if, she would even remember what he'd said about contacting Martha and passing on that message.

He couldn't risk placing all his hope and trust... or the lives of Bobby and Ianto, for that matter... in one big, fat 'maybe'.

Gritting his teeth, he got awkwardly to his feet, and was grateful that he no longer suffering weak knees… or weak anything else, for that matter. His strength was coming back quickly, and it was time to get himself and his companions the hell out of there.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

He looked around to see both Ianto and Bobby watching him suspiciously. It was Ianto who had spoken, though.

"Getting us out of here. Bobby, do you have any idea at all where we are?"

Bobby paused, sniffing the dank air carefully.

"We're not _in_ the sewers… but I think we are in one of the parallel tunnels... a service tunnel. If I'm right, then we might be able to find a connecting tunnel to get into the old subway tunnels."

Ianto looked from Bobby to Jack with a carefully veiled gaze.

"_If_. Rather a long shot, isn't it?"

Jack turned to his lover, struggling to suppress his frustration.

"Ianto, I figure we have two choices here. We risk trying to get ourselves out of here, or we sit around hoping for a rescue that might not come. Either way, I risk losing the two of you and, personally, I'd prefer to at least be _trying_ to do something, instead of sitting here on my ass, waiting for that monster to come back!"

Bobby and Ianto exchanged looks, followed by knowing grins, and all of a sudden Jack had the feeling that they had just been waiting for him to come to a decision. The two men got to their feet, and Ianto stepped across to kiss Jack lightly.

"About bloody time, sir."

"You were both waiting on me," Jack said flatly. Bobby quirked a smile at him.

"Pretty much. There wasn't much point us pushing to do something when you were still conficted over what to do. Now we're all on the same page, we can make a real effort to escape."

"And if it had come back while I was still procrastinating?"

Bobby lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug.

"Well, we could always have just punched it out again."

Jack laughed softly.

"Bobby, I _really_ want you on my team.

"We'll negotiate later," Bobby answered, and the ambiguous answer thoroughly intrigued Jack. "For now, let's just find a way out of here."

Ianto pausing to straighten his woefully filthy suit in a slightly bizarre effort to retain some personal dignity, given their situation. Then, he looked passively towards Bobby.

"Which way, then?"

Bobby pointed down a long, dark tunnel.

"That way."

* * *

They had been walking for nearly five minutes in near pitch-black conditions. Bobby led the way, moving carefully with his hands stretched out in front of him, and testing each step before committing to it. It was slow going, but they all took relief in the knowledge that so far there was no indication they were being chased. Ianto was close behind Bobby, and Jack brought up the rear. The other two men knew well enough why he insisted on that, and neither had the inclination to argue with him.

Right at that point, all any of them wanted was to get out of there... wherever _there _really was.

And so they continued on, through the darkness of the underground tunnels, walking almost blind and only hoping that they might find their way out.

"Light," Ianto pointed out suddenly, keeping his voice to a whisper. Both Bobby and Jack could see he was right. Where just a couple of minutes ago they had been cloaked in near complete darkness, now they found themselves bathed in a very pale light.

"Where's it coming from?" Jack wondered. "Are we near the surface?"

"I don't think so," Bobby murmured. "Remember I said some of these tunnels adjoined the older disused subway tunnels? Well, some of those tunnels still have a bit of electricity running through them, just enough to power the lights and air shafts, so that workers can carry out regular maintenance. It might be light from those tunnels filtering into here. At least, I hope it is."

"Should we be looking for a door?" Ianto wondered.

"A hatchway of some sort in the walls," Bobby answered. "It should be somewhere around here."

Silence fell as they searched anxiously along the walls, looking for some way through into the subway tunnels that Bobby had talked about. It was Jack who found the way through, scraping away the build-up of dirt to reveal a an old wooden door. With a strained grunt, Jack forced it open to reveal a much larger and semi-well lit tunnel on the other side.

"Nice going, Bobby," Jack praised him with a big grin. "Okay, let's..."

His words were cut off abruptly as a familiar howl shattered the quiet.

"Here we go again," Ianto muttered. Jack motioned quickly to the hatchway.

"Go on, both of you. Hurry up!"

Ianto went, aided in part by Jack grabbing him by the arm and physically propelling him through the door. Bobby, however, hesitated.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Jack demanded. "Get going!"

"Tell me, Jack," Bobby asked soberly, "what are you going to do as soon as I go through there? Are you going to follow me through? Or are you planning on shutting that door and letting that thing take you in some warped gesture of nobility so that Ianto and I can get away?"

Jack stared tensely at Bobby. He knew instantly that there was no point in lying. Even in the brief time that he'd known the detective, he had already come to recognise that determined look in the other man's eyes. There would be no swaying him, and definitely no lying about it.

"We can't outrun it," Jack said softly. "This is the only way. Don't you get that?"

"I get that _you_ think you're doing us a favour," Bobby conceded. "On the other hand, _I_ know that you're not."

Ianto had come back then, stepping back through the hatchway and looking from Bobby to Jack in concern and frustration.

"What's going on?"

"Jack wants us to go on, while he stays behind," Bobby said bluntly before Jack could get a word in. The anger that flooded Ianto's face had Jack wanting to cringe right away from the younger man.

"Damn it, Jack, we will not leave you behind!" Ianto burst out. "How much time do we have to keep wasting having this argument?"

"You don't get it, neither of you get it!" Jack exploded. "I don't _want _to be left behind! I want to get out with the both of you, but that's not going to happen! It's too fast now, and too strong!"

"And you staying behind achieves what, exactly?" Bobby wanted to know.

"If I stay behind," Jack insisted, "then it'll give you a chance to get out, get help, and then you can come back for me! Don't you get it? I'm relying on you to come back for me!"

Bobby and Ianto exchanged pointed looks that had Jack thinking that they'd already planned something between them. All of a sudden, he felt more than a little hesitant.

"We're sorry, Jack," Bobby said quietly. "It doesn't work like that."

Jack eyed Bobby with incredulity.

"What? Look, you two..."

"I am really, _really_ sorry," Bobby apologised calmly. Before Jack had a chance to ask why, Bobby's arm snaked out and, with almost deadly precision, he pinched a specific spot near the base of his neck. Jack went down like a sack of potatoes, collapsing unconscious into Ianto's waiting arms.

"He's so going to kill us," Ianto remarked dryly as he and Bobby manoeuvred Jack's limp body through the hatchway. Bobby grimaced as he pulled the hatch closed behind them and then hauled Jack up over his shoulder.

"Let's hope we get out of here to give him that chance."

* * *

The Tardis materialised, and the Doctor was out the door almost before any of them knew what was going on. Martha followed close behind, more used to his frenetic movement than his current companion. Donna hurried out after her, with Alex, Ross and the rest of the Torchwood team right behind her.

"Where the hell are we?" Owen asked, looking around at their surroundings with a frown.

"Subway tunnels," Ross stated grimly. "Not the current tunnels, though. This is one of the old tunnels. It hasn't been an active part of the subway system in over a decade. Now it's used more like a service tunnel, for general maintenance."

"Doctor?" Martha asked anxiously. "Which way?"

The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver out and was quickly adjusting the setting. He frowned deeply as he turned in a slow circle, until the device uttered a loud beep.

"That way," he announced, pointing down the dimly lit tunnel with the screwdriver. He looked around at those who had come with him, and his expression darkened considerably at the sight of so many weapons being pulled out and primed.

"You're Jack's team, all right," he said as he eyed Owen, Gwen and Tosh with a scathing look. Owen waved his gun with a barely-concealed smirk.

"Stun gun, Doctor. Contrary to what you might think, we're not as trigger-happy as some of our predecessors."

The Doctor snorted, and they knew full well that it was the only approval he was likely to give them on the weapons front. He then turned his gaze to Alex and Ross, both of whom were carrying automatic guns.

"Put those away, _now_."

"You can't be serious," Ross started to argue, only to be brought up short by a force-ten glare from the Doctor.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious. Put it away, or you don't go any further. No one is killing anything today, if I can help it."

"Then what, exactly, are you going to do with that... _thing_ when we find it?" Alex demanded to know.

"I'll give it a chance," the Doctor answered coolly. "One chance, to leave this planet and never come back. I'll take it where it can exist without harming anyone, if that's what it wants."

"What _it_ wants?" Alex exploded. "That monster _killed_ your friend! Or doesn't he mean that much to you after all? Did you really mean it when you told him he was worth fighting for? Or were you lying through your teeth when you told him that?"

Silence descended like a weight on them all as the Doctor walked forward until he was almost nose to nose with Alex. To her credit, she didn't back away, but the look on her face suggested she knew she'd just made an enormous faux pas.

"How do you know about that?"

Alex struggled not to flinch, and when she spoke it was in a whisper that was more a belated attempt at discretion, than fear of the Doctor.

"Jack showed us."

"_Us_?"

"Me, Bobby and Ianto... He... He showed us his memories."

The Doctor stood frozen, torn over reacting to that news, and focusing on the issues at hand. Finally, he chose the latter. Jack's memories were, ultimately, his own domain and who he did or didn't show them to was his choice and his right. He paused, momentarily lost to his own memories as an astonishing realisation struck. For Jack to have been able to show that particular moment to others meant that he did, indeed, remember it. Despite what both he and the Master had believed at the time, Jack had to have been aware at least on some very minor level during that brief period on the Valiant.

Which led the Doctor to another realisation, and one that was enough to bring the threat of tears. Jack knew how much he loved him. After all they'd been through together, after everything he had done, Jack knew and remembered. More than that, it seemed he had been clinging to that knowledge to survive.

Fresh determination surged through the Doctor. He was not going to let his friend down. Not again. Swinging around, he slapped his hands and rubbed them together almost manically.

"All right, let's go!"

Ross looked across at Alex in concern as the others hurried away along the tunnel.

"Eames, are you all right?"

She nodded, feeling slightly shaken and trying desperately not to let it show.

"I... I'm fine, Captain. I just... I think..."

"What is it?"

She stood frozen for a long moment before looking at him in disbelief.

"I think he took my gun!"

Ross looked down and, sure enough, her gun hand was empty.

"How...?"

She shook her head, her head spinning.

"I don't think I want to know."

Just then, the Doctor's voice floated back to them.

"Are you coming or not?"

Exchanging rueful looks, Ross and Alex hurried after the Doctor and his companions.

* * *

How Bobby was able to keep walking while burdened with Jack's not-insubstantial weight, Ianto didn't honestly know. He wanted to help, but his broken arm effectively put paid to any notions of sharing the load, as it were.

"Ianto, you need to keep walking. I can't carry you both."

The Welshman blinked, and realised with a start that he'd fallen some metres behind.

"Sorry," he mumbled, wondering dully if it was just the pain of his broken arm that was slowing him down, or if he was actually suffering from some degree of shock.

"Don't apologise," Bobby told him. "Just try to keep up. I said I wasn't leaving Jack behind. Same goes for you, too."

Ianto regarded Bobby with fresh appreciation.

"If you don't mind me saying so, your captain is a fool for not appreciating you."

Discomfort flashed across Bobby's features at the quiet praise.

"It… It's not all him. I'm not the easiest person to deal with."

Ianto uttered a short laugh.

"Neither is Jack. Trust me, there are times when he can be an utter bastard. But that doesn't stop us from appreciating him. It shouldn't stop your captain from appreciating you." Ianto paused, trying to put his thoughts into a cohesive order before speaking again. "You deserve to be somewhere that you are appreciated."

"I'm flattered," Bobby murmured. "I really am…"

"But?" Ianto queried.

"But I couldn't go anywhere without Alex. I… I don't cope well without her."

Ianto hesitated for just a moment before asking his next question.

"Are you two in a relationship?"

"No," Bobby answered. He was quietly surprised at his lack of indignation to a question that had won multiple others a fist to the face. Perhaps, he mused, it wasn't the question itself, but rather the way it was asked that mattered, and there was no offence in Ianto's tone; just simple, harmless curiosity. "No, we're partners and friends, not lovers. She's my best friend. I… I just don't do very well without her."

"I think you may be underestimating yourself."

Bobby shook his head stubbornly.

"No, I'm not. You don't understand. Before Alex agreed to partner me, no one else lasted longer than a month. Most of them labelled me a whack job. Even the Chief of Police thinks that. But Alex… She gave me a chance, and she didn't make superficial judgments. She stuck it out… She _stayed_, Ianto. No one else stayed. I at least owe it to her not to just walk out on her."

A small smile ghosted across Ianto's lips.

"Are you sure you're not secretly married, Bobby? You sound like an old married couple to me."

Bobby laughed softly, seeing the harmless teasing for what it was. Ianto fell quiet, considering Bobby's words. He knew Jack would certainly appreciate Bobby's sense of loyalty to his partner. On a scale of one to ten, Ianto knew that Jack rated loyalty a very strong eleven. He wondered, though, whether Bobby's loyalty to the NYPD was as deep-set.

"Well… What if you were to come to Torchwood together?"

Bobby halted, an astonished look on his face.

"Together?"

Ianto couldn't quite conceal the grin that was struggling to appear on his face. The stunned expression on Bobby's face was priceless.

"Jack wants you on the team, Bobby. I don't think that it would be too hard to convince him that Alex would be equally as much of an asset."

Bobby shifted awkwardly under the deadweight that was Jack.

"Well… Let's just concentrate on getting out of here first."

Ianto smirked faintly as they started moving again.

"Just out of curiosity," Ianto asked, "what exactly did you do to Jack, anyway?"

"I aimed for a particular set of nerves in his neck," Bobby answered. "Pinch them just hard enough, and you're out like a light."

"You learned that in the NYPD?" Ianto asked in surprise. Bobby smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"No. My eighth grade science teacher showed me, after I got the crap beaten out of me at lunchtime one day by the school bully. I used it on him the next day. He never harassed me again."

Ianto laughed softly as they continued along the tunnel.

"Nice."

* * *

_tbc..._


	20. Reunited

Ultimately, the only assurance they had that they were going the right way was the Doctor himself. The further they went, the darker and colder it got, and still there was no sign of Bobby, Jack and Ianto.

"Just who the hell is this bloody Captain Jack, anyway?" Donna asked Martha as they walked. "Because I've never seen the Doctor panic like that before, like when he got your call."

Martha glanced at her sideways, but it was Owen who spoke, from where he was walking on the other side of the woman.

"Sorry, did you say panic?"

Donna nodded, remembering with a slight shudder the flurry of furious activity that Martha's call had sent the Doctor into.

"Yeah, that's what I said. I'm telling you, I don't scare easy, but he scared the hell out of me then. Acted like the world was about to end… and with him, you know that could actually happen. So, who is this bloke? What's he to the Doctor?"

"He's a friend," Martha said softly, painful memories whispering through her mind. "He's a very good, very special friend." And then, before Donna had a chance to press for more information, she hurried forward to catch up with the Doctor. "Tell me we're at least in the right place? Doctor? We are in the right place, aren't we?"

"He's here," the Doctor muttered. "Close, so close… C'mon, Jack, where are you?" He swung around slowly, holding out the screwdriver and frowning deeply. "I'm picking up four bio-signatures. One is definitely Jack…" He paused, his frown deepening as he made an adjustment to the settings on the screwdriver. "He's unconscious."

"Well, better than being dead," Owen remarked dryly. The Doctor didn't spare him a glance.

"Two more with him… moving slowly…"

"That must be Bobby and Ianto," Alex said quickly, feeling a surge of relief at what she considered to be confirmation that her partner was still alive.

"And a fourth," the Doctor went on grimly. "Non-human… and catching them up very quickly."

"The Grysliaak," Gwen whispered in dismay.

The Doctor took off at a sprint down the tunnel with a wordless shout. With just a glance shared between them, the rest of them took off after him, each one hoping fervently that they weren't too late.

* * *

"I have to stop," Bobby conceded finally, staggering to a halt and laying Jack's limp form carefully down on the cold ground.

"I'm impressed you got this far," Ianto murmured as he crouched down to check Jack over. The Captain was still unconscious, much to his quiet concern. "Bobby, how long was that supposed to last? You know… the Vulcan neck pinch?"

Bobby smiled wryly at the comparison. It hadn't occurred to him before, he supposed that was exactly what it was.

"Fifteen… maybe twenty minutes, at the most. He should be waking up any minute now."

Ianto looked down at his unconscious lover grimly.

"Sooner, rather than later, I hope. You can't carry him any further."

"I will if I have to," Bobby told him wearily. "Ianto, if that thing catches up to us…"

"If you're going to tell me to save myself, then don't," Ianto snapped. "We've already had this argument with Jack. I'm not going to have it with you, now, as well."

Bobby smiled wryly.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but actually, I was going to say that it'll be up to us to try and protect Jack. You know it's going to go for him."

Ianto nodded his agreement, grateful that Bobby was not trying to protect all of them. Broken arm or not, he could still put up a damned good fight.

"It may not be human," Ianto said, "but it's still in human form, with all the frailties that this form has. If we go all out, we might just be able to catch it off-guard."

"It draws energy through its mouth, right? Like a… a vampire, I guess."

Ianto nodded, wondering where Bobby was going with that.

"That's right."

"So we make sure it doesn't get its mouth anywhere near us."

Ianto couldn't suppress a grin.

"Words to break Jack's heart."

Bobby smiled slightly at the less than subtle innuendo in Ianto's comment.

"You two really are serious, aren't you?"

Ianto stared down at Jack and smiled lovingly.

"Not so long ago, I would have said no. Especially after Jack disappeared. But when he came back, something had changed. _He'd_ changed. Before, he was the epitome of casual. Now… We've been out on half a dozen bona fide dates since he came home. But I think what's really convinced me of how serious he is about us is that he's not propositioned anyone since he came home. He'll still flirt with anything that breathes, but it doesn't go beyond that. He was even talking about us being exclusive before we came here, and that was one word I never thought I'd hear out of his mouth. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

Bobby chuckled softly.

"'Exclusive', do you mean?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't surprise me," Bobby murmured. "Anyone can see how much he loves you, Ianto."

Ianto uttered a short laugh.

"Well, if he ever asks me to marry him, I may yet have that heart attack."

"Do_you_ love _him_?" Bobby asked quietly, and Ianto allowed his fingertips to lightly stroke Jack's temple and cheek. He didn't hesitate with his answer.

"Yes, I love him, more than anything. And now that we've sufficiently stroked his ego, perhaps dear Captain Harkness would like to get off his arse so that we can get moving again."

Slowly, Jack opened one eye and looked up at Ianto guiltily.

"You always were impossible to fool."

Ianto merely smirked, and helped Jack up off the ground.

"How long have you been awake?" Bobby asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Long enough to hear you two discussing my disinclinations towards domesticity, except where Ianto's concerned," Jack admitted, somewhat sheepish in his confession. He paused, looking from one to the other, and all amusement rapidly fell away. "Now, could someone please explain to me what happened, because this isn't where we were a minute ago."

It was suddenly Bobby and Ianto's turn to look guilty.

"I knocked you out," Bobby admitted. "To stop you from going back and giving yourself up."

Though Jack made no comment on that, the look on his face spoke volumes, telling Bobby they would definitely be dealing with that subject later on.

"Okay. So tell me then how we got here?"

"Bobby carried you," Ianto told him. Jack eyed Bobby in astonishment, and the detective shrugged.

"I told you, we weren't leaving you behind. Not for any reason."

Just briefly, Jack's throat tightened, and there was a slight burning sensation in his eyes as he fought off the threat of tears. Not even Ianto fully understood how much that really meant to him, even knowing the basics of what had happened on Satellite Five. He doubted he would ever grow tired of hearing affirmations such as that from those he had made himself responsible for – those whom he cared about.

Then, just as abruptly, another thought occurred to him.

"Do you have any idea where it is?"

Neither Bobby nor Ianto needed prompting to know what Jack was talking about, and Ianto shook his head in answer.

"No. We haven't seen or heard anything from it since we came through into this tunnel."

"That's really not good," Jack muttered. When he caught the quizzical looks from his companions, he offered a grim explanation. "It's like spiders. You can't see them, but you _know_ they're there. It could be anywhere right now."

Ianto was about to speak again when Bobby suddenly cut him off, his voice rising slightly in tone and volume with barely controlled excitement.

"I think I can see lights. That way…"

Jack and Ianto both looked, and sure enough they could just make out pinpricks of lights down the tunnel.

"Jack, can you hear that?" Ianto whispered. They listened, and the echo of a voice floated eerily down the tunnel to them, faint but just intelligible.

"_Jack_…"

"Is that the…?" Bobby gasped, unable to fully suppress a shudder of fear. Jack, however, shook his head and neither Bobby nor Ianto could possibly miss the way his entire countenance lit up in the darkness.

"No, Bobby, that's not the Grysliaak. It's something a million times better! I'd know that voice anywhere!" And then, he bellowed out a single name at the top of his lungs. "_Doctor!_"

The response was almost immediate, and more of a relief than any of them could express.

"_They're here! This way, hurry!_"

At that same moment, there was an angry snarl from behind them, and the Grysliaak came charging out of the darkness and hurled itself at the nearest man.

Bobby grunted in pain as he was brought crashing to the ground. His hands came up instinctively to stop the monster's face from getting anywhere near him, but he knew he would only be able to hold out against its superior strength for a matter of seconds. The weight of the monster in human form crushed him into the ground, and he cried out in pain as he felt at least a couple of his ribs crack.

And then, just as abruptly, the creature was gone again, tackled away from him by Jack. He could breathe again, and he drew in a long, ragged gasp of air despite the fiery pain in his chest. And instant later, Jack was on his feet again, and pulling Bobby up as well.

"Run!" Jack yelled. "Run, and don't look back!"

They ran, driven by a potent mix of fear and adrenalin. Bobby, already pushed to the limits of exhaustion from carrying Jack while he was unconscious, soon began to drop behind. It was only Jack's hand grabbing hold of his own and dragging him forward that saved him from being brought down again. As it was, he felt clawed hands scraping down his back, shredding what was left of his shirt.

"Keep going, and don't stop!" Jack thundered at him, while at the same time tightening his grip on Bobby's hand, refusing to let go.

Bobby ran, focusing everything he had on those lights that were coming ever closer.

There was a howl of rage behind them, but Bobby took some small comfort in the realisation that they seemed to have put a little bit of distance between themselves and the Grysliaak. For the first time since they'd been taken, Bobby began to believe that maybe they might survive after all, and he put on an extra burst of speed, calling on reserves of energy that he hadn't previously known that he even possessed.

Jack felt Bobby surge forward, and finally risked loosening his grip on the other man's hand. For one terrifying moment there, he thought Bobby was about to collapse, and he knew it would have been fatal if he had slowed or stopped at that point. But now the man was running like the devil himself was chasing them… And, he supposed grimly, in a way he was.

He risked a glance to his other side, and was gratified to see Ianto was keeping up the pace, despite the pain that was all too visible in his beautiful face. But there was no time for sympathy now. Now there was only time for running, running as though their lives depended on it – and, for Bobby and Ianto at least, it did.

The lights were getting closer and larger and brighter, and now Jack could make out human shapes to go with those lights. They were heading towards each other fast, very fast, but right then Jack didn't give a damn if he collided head-on with any of them. He just wanted to be safe, and the only way that was going to happen was in the protection of…

"Doctor…" Jack choked out, slamming into a tall, familiar and gratifyingly solid form that suddenly seemed to materialise right in front of him. Arms enclosed around his body as he went down, the strength suddenly sapped from him like water through a sieve.

"All right," the Doctor murmured, hugging him tightly, protectively. "I've got you."

He looked around, quickly taking in the scene. Bobby had literally fallen into the protective embrace of his feisty partner and their captain, while Ianto was being held and comforted by Toshiko, Gwen and Owen. Only Bobby Goren and Ianto Jones appeared to be injured in any way, but although there was not a physical blemish to be found on Jack, the Doctor had no doubt that he had probably suffered the worst of the three.

Martha appeared at his side, one hand going out to lightly stroke Jack's matted and dirty hair, while Donna hovered just behind his shoulder. The only one not emotionally invested in the situation in any way, it was Donna who realised they had some very unwelcome company.

"Doctor? What the _hell_ is that?"

The Doctor looked up slowly, his arms still protectively around Jack.

Sure enough, emerging out of the darkness, was a humanoid shape. It moved slowly now, aware that its prey was now in the protection of others. As it walked, drops of sweat beaded on its flesh and rolled in large drops down face, arms and legs, leaving behind a murky trail. Except, as it came ever closer, they could see that it wasn't sweat dripping from its body, but rather flesh itself – melting and dripping away like wax from a melting waxwork shape.

As it advanced, they could make out the increasingly misshapen head, the elongated arms and rubbery looking fingers that reached forward. Eye sockets were starting to break down, and the eyes in those sockets looked disgustingly like the squashy novelty eyeballs that could be found in toy shops.

"Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick," Donna mumbled.

"What the hell _is_ that?" Martha demanded, unconsciously tightening her hold on Jack.

"It's the Grysliaak," the Doctor answered grimly. "Jack, when did it feed last?"

"Don't know," Jack answered hoarsely. "Not off me since we tried to escape the power station."

"That was nearly a day ago now," Ross said quietly. His hand rested on his gun, despite the Doctor's warning against using it. He was willing to give the Doctor the chance to stop the monster, but if it so much as looked at Bobby or the other two the wrong way...

"It tried to feed off Bobby," Ianto spoke up from where he was currently being cradled protectively in Gwen's arms. "But it was interrupted mid-feed. That was a long while ago... Hours. It hasn't fed since then, I don't think."

"It's losing its assimilated form," the Doctor said. "Once it assimilates, it needs vast amounts of energy to maintain that form. Without it, it begins to lose its form within hours." He gently shifted Jack into Martha's waiting arms, and stood up to face the approaching creature, taking care to place himself between it and Jack.

"How about that," the Grysliaak spoke in a voice that sounded like it was trying to gargle at the same time. "Someone's come to save Jacky after all."

"Stop right there," the Doctor warned it, at the same time drawing his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. "Don't come any closer."

"Or you'll what? Talk me to death? You can't stop me from taking what I want. None of you can."

It took another step closer, and the Doctor activated the screwdriver. It pulsed with blue light that lit up the dark tunnel, and the Grysliaak screamed in agony, waxy hands clutching at its head.

"What are you doing to it?" Gwen asked, confused.

"Ultra-sonic pitch," the Doctor replied without taking his eyes off the monster. "We can't hear it because it's a pitch that travels exclusively on electrical current."

"Stop!" the Grysliaak shrieked. "Stop it!"

The Doctor held the button fast for a moment longer before finally releasing it and ending the Grysliaak's agony. As it recovered from the shock, it looked up at the Doctor dazedly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor," came the flat reply. "That's all you need to know. Now listen to me closely. I have a ship. I'm willing to take you off this planet, and find somewhere that you can exist, without harming anyone else. Will you accept?"

The Grysliaak favoured the Doctor with a sullen glare, and then tried to look past him to where Jack lay slumped against Martha. The Doctor shifted, completely blocking its view of him.

"Forget him. He's not yours to take, not now or ever. Will you let me find you somewhere? Because I will not allow you to stay here, and continue harming these humans."

The Grysliaak snarled angrily.

"You're not one of them. Why are you protecting them?"

"Because they're worth protecting," the Doctor answered, his tone softening just a fraction. "This is your last chance. Will you accept my offer?"

It tried once more to get a look at Jack, and was once more blocked by the Doctor.

"He's mine," the Doctor said in a low, threatening voice. "And I will always defend what's mine. Last chance..."

"All right!" the Grysliaak burst out suddenly, more than a hint of panic in its voice. "All right... I accept. I'll leave this planet... I'll go wherever you take me."

The Doctor nodded slowly, satisfied.

"Good. Very good."

"What now, then?" Alex asked tersely. She dared not take her eyes off the creature, grotesque though it looked. She didn't trust the ease with which it had accepted the Doctor's offer, and her only thoughts were for protecting her partner, no matter what.

"Now, we head back to the Tardis," the Doctor answered. "I'll take you all back to One Police Plaza, and then I'll take him to another world, where it can't hurt anyone else. Try and get them up, we have a bit of a walk back to the Tardis."

With some difficulty, Bobby, Ianto and Jack were all helped to their feet. Ross supported Bobby, ignoring his protestations that he was perfectly capable of walking on his own. Gwen and Owen helped Ianto, who seemed to be on the verge of giving into the shock that had been threatening to engulf him since their abduction, and Martha and Tosh did their best to support Jack. The Captain made no efforts to reject their help, and they both suspected the innuendos would have been free-flowing from his lips, had he been any stronger and less exhausted.

The Doctor walked ahead, keeping the Grysliaak at bay ahead of them with his screwdriver, while Donna all but hid behind him.

It was a long, silent journey back down the tunnel to the Tardis, and all of them felt immense relief as it came into sight.

"Never get tired of those panels," Jack mumbled, too flat-out tired to put any real effort into the comment. The Doctor smiled wryly, though he didn't take his eyes off the Grysliaak.

"She loves you too, Jack." He stepped up and unlocked the door, then waved the Grysliaak inside. "Go on. Move."

The monster went, with the Doctor right behind it. Slowly, the rest of them followed.

Once inside, Jack pulled away from Martha and Tosh, and walked unsteadily over to the central control, reaching out to stroke his hand over the multitude of buttons and knobs with very real affection.

"Hey, old girl," he whispered, and the others fancied that they could almost sense the ship's pleasure at the intimate greeting from the Captain.

"All right," the Doctor announced, with fresh enthusiasm. "Next stop, One Police Plaza!"

And he finally turned away from the Grysliaak in order to set the coordinates.

In the next instant, all hell literally broke loose as the Grysliaak suddenly snarled and lunged across the control room floor to tackle Jack. The Captain barely had time to grunt in pain as he hit the floor, his head cracking hard on the metal.

Owen, Gwen and Tosh had their stun guns out instantly, and Ross pulled out his own gun and joined the Torchwood team in aiming his weapon at the monster as it grappled with a clearly weakened Jack Harkness. Somewhere behind them, Donna shrieked wordlessly, while Martha yelled at the Doctor for him to do something.

"_Stop_!" the Doctor thundered, his voice bringing everything and everyone to an utter standstill. He focused a harsh glare on the Torchwood trio. "You should all know by now that the Grysliaak is an energy-based being. Exactly how effective do you think electricity-issuing stun guns will be?"

Silence reigned and then, as one, the three of them lowered their weapons.

"And you didn't bother mentioning this before because...?" Owen asked. The Doctor flashed them a brief grin.

"Thought I'd wait and see whether any of you realised." His grin faded rapidly as he looked to Ross. "Put it away, Captain. _Now_."

Compelled by the absolute authority in the Doctor's voice, Ross reluctantly lowered his gun, and holstered. Satisfied, the Doctor turned his full attention to the Grysliaak.

"And as for you..."

The monster glared up at him.

"Going to make me more offers, Doctor? I don't think so. But I have one for you. Let me go, and let me have this one, and I'll leave the rest of this planet alone. You have _my_ word. All I want is Jack."

The look on the Doctor's face was frightening in its intensity.

"I warned you. You had one chance, and one chance only. Jack is not yours to take. He's mine, and I will defend him!"

The Grysliaak leaned down low over Jack, easily overcoming the Captain despite its slipping form. Jack uttered a strangled cry of pain as the Grysliaak tightened its hold on him, and clamped its slimy mouth briefly to his throat, drawing out a fraction of the immortal's life force. Then, it looked back at the Doctor with a malicious stare.

"How are you going to stop me? With your little toy? I'll endure a hundred of them for this one."

The Doctor made no move to activate his sonic screwdriver, but he did take a step sideways, putting him within reach of a particular button on the console panel.

"Maybe I can't stop you, but _she_ can."

The Grysliaak glared at him, angered in its confusion.

"She? Who is she?"

"My ship," the Doctor answered. "You see, the Tardis is no ordinary ship. She's alive, and just like me, she likes to protect what's hers. And Jack is very definitely hers."

The Grysliaak uttered a screeching laugh.

"Your _ship_ is going to stop me? How?"

"This is how," the Doctor said, and he hit the button.

There was a loud crack as the floor panel near Jack and the Grysliaak broke open, and the two of them were suddenly bathed in blinding gold light.

"Everyone, look away!" the Doctor bellowed. And then, "Jack, shut your eyes! If you can hear me, shut your eyes! Don't look at the light!"

Everyone looked away, driven to do so by the Doctor's thundered warning. Only the Doctor remained, watching breathlessly as the light from the heart of the Tardis engulfed man and monster until he could no longer distinguish either.

A scream rent the air, not of pain but rather of panic and rage. It filled the room for just a matter of seconds before fading away again until only an echo was left. Then, there was second loud crack as the floor panel fell back into place, and the brilliant light faded away.

"What the hell was that?" Owen whispered, rubbing at his eyes furiously to clear his vision.

"That was the heart of the Tardis," the Doctor answered soberly. "I told you, this ship is alive, and she's very protective of her own."

"Where is it?" Alex asked, from where she was crouching beside Bobby. "Where did it go?"

"It's been absorbed into the Tardis herself," the Doctor answered as he walked around the console. "She stripped away its assimilated form, and absorbed it into her energy core. It's gone, and it won't be coming back."

"Did you know that would happen?" Gwen wanted to know. The Doctor glanced back at her.

"I hoped it would take my offer to relocate it, but I'd guessed that it wouldn't. I couldn't do anything outside the Tardis, though. Not with a Grysliaak. I needed to get it in here, where the Tardis herself could deal with it."

"That was a blood big chance you took," Owen growled. The Doctor looked unimpressed with the young medic's irritation.

"You were never in any real danger from it. The only one it ever really wanted was Jack."

"Uh... speaking of which..."

It was Martha who had spoken, and the Doctor looked over at her questioningly. She was kneeling beside Jack, who had yet to move from where the Grysliaak had tackled him.

"What is it, Martha?"

She stared up at him with frightened eyes.

"The Grysliaak didn't get a chance to, you know, feed off Jack that time, right? The Tardis dealt with it before it could kill him?"

"Yes," the Doctor agreed impatiently. "What's your point?"

"And the Tardis was meant to save Jack, right?"

"Martha..."

Martha looked back down at Jack, and couldn't quite contain her tears.

"Then why is he dead?"

* * *

_tbc..._


	21. Bringing Him Home

The Doctor sat at Jack's side in the Tardis' medical bay, maintaining vigil in a silence through which no one – not even Martha – could break. The younger man lay in state, his skin steadily turning cold as all remaining warmth fled his body in death. He had no explanation for Jack's death this time save one, and the implications scared the hell out of him. Consequently, he refused to speak to anyone and continued to sit there, watching and waiting, and praying to Rassilon that it wasn't what he thought.

When Martha had asked that question, tears in her eyes and her voice trembling, anyone would have been hard pressed to know who got to Jack's side first – the Doctor or Ianto. Even with his arm visibly broken, Ianto wasted no time extracting himself from the arms of his colleagues to scramble across the floor to Jack's side. While he clutched Jack's hand in his own, the Doctor crouched over the Captain's body, scanning him frantically with his sonic screwdriver. 

Now, nearly two hours later, Jack showed no sign of returning to life, and the Doctor was finding it harder and harder to hide his growing fear.

Voices intruded on his consciousness, and he looked around the med bay slowly. On one side of the room, Ianto Jones lay on a bed, surrounded by his three Torchwood colleagues. His broken arm had been mended by the medical technology in the Tardis, and now he lay in a state of semi-sedation while his body and mind recovered from the shock of all that had happened.

In the next bed was the police detective, Bobby Goren. The Doctor frowned a little, stirred from his deeply meditative state as his gaze focused properly on Bobby's pale face for the first time, and all of a sudden, a memory from long ago sparked to life. Many regenerations past – six, if he wasn't mistaken – he remembered a child in a house empty for all save an ill parent, a nameless monster and a frightening encounter. 

Before he fully realised what he was doing, the Doctor rose to his feet and cross the room to where Bobby lay, talking quietly to his partner and his captain. 

Silence fell as the Doctor approached, and not only did Bobby, Alex and Ross look to him, so did the Torchwood team where they sat keeping Ianto company; and so did Martha, who was making of show of stocktaking the medical supplies with Donna.

"Hello again, Bobby," the Doctor said quietly, watching the detective with a slightly quirked eyebrow. Bobby blinked, staring back at the Doctor in visible confusion.

"You... know me?"

"We've met before," the Doctor answered, and Bobby shook his head, laughing uneasily.

"No, I don't think so. I think I'd remember you."

A wry smile twisted across the Doctor's face.

"Not this face, no. When we met last, you were just a little boy, and I was only in my fourth regeneration."

"Bobby, what's he talking about?" Alex asked softly. Bobby shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Oh, yes, you do," the Doctor cut him off. "You just don't want to remember."

"What are you talking about?" Bobby asked, starting to feel agitated. "I never met you!"

"You were affected by it, weren't you?" the Doctor asked abruptly. "The Grysliaak? It affected you, and no one else."

Bobby paled even more, but he nodded an affirmative. 

"Yes... It did. You know why, don't you?"

"Because you've encountered one before. When you were a boy, just a little boy. Alone in your house, your mother sick in bed. And a shadow that shouldn't have been there, a shadow chasing you in the dark, hunting you down."

Bobby had frozen in the bed, his face draining of what little colour he still had, and he clutched Alex's hand in a death grip. The Doctor nodded grimly.

"You remember now, don't you?"

Bobby swallowed hard, and spoke in a shaky whisper.

"I remember... I was alone with Mom that weekend. Dad had gone on a trip to Sacramento, and he'd taken Frank with him. Mom was... She was sick. I was only eight, but I tried to take care of her. But something came... There was a power blackout. I was looking for candles when I heard it. It called me by name... I panicked and ran, and it chased me... I never saw it, but I could feel it... chasing me everywhere I ran, until it cornered me in the kitchen." He looked up at the Doctor, eyes wide. "There was a man. He had curly hair, a scarf... and... jelly babies?"

The Doctor smiled with remembered affection. 

"Quite fond of them back then, I was. Can't stand them now, of course."

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath. 

"He stopped it. I don't know how, I don't remember that. I just remember him picking me up off the floor and taking me upstairs to my bedroom... He put me in bed, gave me a jelly baby, and told me to go to sleep. He said it'd all seem like just a bad dream when I woke up. I asked him who he was... He told me his name was the Doctor..." He stared in shock at the tall, lanky man who was standing by his bedside. "It was you."

No question, no confusion, just a simple statement of realisation. The Doctor smiled faintly. 

"You survived a Grysliaak's attack twice. I'm impressed, and believe me, I'm not easy to impress." 

Bobby was silent for a long minute, wondering how to respond to that. In the end, he could think of only one thing to say. His gaze went to the other side of the room, and he asked a single question in a soft voice.

"Why isn't Jack waking up?"

The Doctor stiffened noticeably, and he was barely aware of it when Martha came to stand beside him, gently slipping her hand into his.

"It's to do with that light, isn't it? You shouted at him not to look at it... but what if he did? What would it have done to him?"

"It could kill him permanently, if that's what he truly wanted," the Doctor admitted, feeling sick with burgeoning grief. "The Tardis can see into your heart, and if Jack allowed her to see into his... If she saw a desire to die... She could take his immortality from him as easily as it was given."

"You think that's what's happened?" Gwen asked, sounding distinctly frightened all of a sudden. "That's he's dead... for good?"

"I can't feel it in him," the Doctor admitted in a suddenly tremulous voice as he walked back across to the bedside. "He should feel wrong, even in death... but he doesn't. Not anymore. I can't feel the vortex in him."

"Then we have to take him back to the console room," Martha said fiercely. "We have to open the heart again, and make her change him back. We have to..."

"We can't," the Doctor cut her off. "If this is what Jack wanted..."

He grunted as she grabbed at his jacket lapels and jerked him around. 

"The_Face of Boe_, Doctor. Remember? If Jack is dead, how will he ever be able to give you that message in the year Five Billion?"

The Doctor turned the colour of ash as realisation hit, and he practically bounded back to Jack's bedside. Switching on his sonic screwdriver, he scanned it furiously over Jack's body, searching for something, for some tiny spark. 

"C'mon," he whispered, "there must be something... Damn you, Jack, don't you be the one to leave me, now. You said you forgave me, so prove it! Come back to me, you.. you..."

He trailed off, and nervous silence reigned as the Doctor searched Jack's body for the tiniest sign of life. Minutes ticked by and the anxiety increased tenfold before the screwdriver suddenly squawked loudly, and the Doctor shouted triumphantly. 

"There you are, Captain! Sneaky, hiding away like that. Bet you wanted me to come looking for you, didn't you? Always the attention seeker, cheeky sod..."

"He's alive, then?" Ross asked, with a feeling of hope that surprised himself. The Doctor, however, shook his head.

"No, not yet, but the Vortex hasn't left him yet, either. He can come back, but the question is, how to do it? How to draw him back?"

"Can't he just come back on his own?" Alex wondered, and again the Doctor shook his head in answer.

"He's too weak to pull himself back," he said grimly. "He needs help."

"Go on, Gwen," Owen told his colleague dryly. "Go give him a snog."

"Owen, shut it," Gwen snapped. Owen was unrepentant, though. 

"It worked last time, didn't it?"

"Just a coincidence," she retorted, embarrassed by all the attention that was suddenly directed towards her. The Doctor's attention, though, had well and truly snagged by Owen's words.

"What do you mean, the _last time_?"

Uncomfortable silence met his question, and suspicion filled the Doctor's face.

"Now see, when no one wants to answer me, it just makes me all the more determined to know. So someone had better answer me, and quickly!"

It was Tosh who spoke, looking almost queasy.

"You... don't know? Jack never told you about Abaddon?"

The Doctor's expression darkened even more. He knew that name, and it could only mean bad news.

"Abaddon, the Destroyer? How do you know about him?"

Nervous looks were exchanged, and Gwen reluctantly took it on herself to explain.

"We made a terrible mistake a while back. We allowed ourselves to be influenced by false visions, and we fully opened the rift. We thought it was the only way to set everything right, but it just made it a thousand times worse."

"You released Abaddon," the Doctor stated tonelessly, and Gwen nodded, tears filling her eyes at the memory.

"Yes. We did."

"It wasn't Jack's fault," Tosh added softly. "He tried to stop us, but we wouldn't listen to him. We were so sure that we were right, and we all turned on him. It was horrible, the whole thing was horrible."

The Doctor shook his head, his features creased in a deep frown. 

"No, that's not right. Jack would have found a way to stop you... unless..."

Owen coughed self-consciously.

"Yes, well, that would have been the point at which I shot him in the head."

By that time, the Doctor's face was positively thunderous, and when he spoke it was with barely-controlled fury. 

"What happened?"

"Jack came back to life," Gwen answered softly. "Scared the hell out of all of us in the process... but then he had to face Abaddon. I watched it happen. Jack force-fed his life force to Abaddon... He overloaded it, I guess. He destroyed it, but doing it killed him. He was dead for three whole days, and we thought that was it. He wasn't coming back. I... I kissed him, to say goodbye, and he woke up as I was walking away."

The Doctor stared at her for several long seconds before looking back at Jack's lifeless form with some incredulity. A kiss...? Could it really be as simple... and as complicated... as that?

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Donna asked sceptically. "I mean, come on! This isn't a bloody fairy tale, and he sure as hell isn't Sleeping Beauty!"

The Doctor didn't react to Donna at all, his attention exclusively on Jack. The cliché and the utter irony of it didn't escape him – a kiss to wake him, to bring him back to life. The one thing that Jack Harkness had been yearning to claim from him since they'd come face to face again on Malcassairo, and the the one thing the Doctor would not allow him to take. He had to swallow a bitter laugh at the idea that he might now have to kiss Jack in order to coax him back to life.

"I'll do it, if you really think that's what has to be done."

It was Martha who offered, much to the Doctor's private amusement. He raised an eyebrow at her, observing the blush in her cheeks with a tiny smile.

"As much as I'd love to let you, Martha, I'm afraid not."

On the other side of the room, Owen snorted loudly.

"Knew it. Even his ruddy doctor has got it bad for him."

The Doctor shot Owen a look that left the medic positively cowed, and then looked back to Martha with a wry expression. 

"None of you have sufficient living energy to infuse him with. I have to do it. I'm the only one who can."

"But that doesn't make sense," Gwen argued. "If it really works like that, then hhow come I was able to bring him back after Abaddon?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted as he walked back and began to draw the curtain the bed, to afford both Jack and himself some privacy. "Maybe it had been three days, he'd had enough time for his body to regenerate the power that he needed to come back to life. Right now, though, I'm not willing to wait that long. So, if you'll all excuse me..."

He pulled the curtain right around the bed, blocking everyone else in the room from seeing what was happening, and was just sitting down on the edge of the bed when the curtain moved, and Martha slipped in. He looked up at her questioningly as she seated herself on the other side of the bed, and gently grasped Jack's cold, limp hand in her own.

"He's my friend, too, Doctor," she said softly. "Do what you've gotta do. Just don't tell me I can't be here for him."

Nodding, he returned his attention to Jack and, silently promising to smack the good Captain well and truly over the head when it was all over, the Doctor leaned down and closed his lips over Jack's.

* * *

_It was dark, so utterly and completely dark. He was aware, but only on a very primal level. It was like having an out-of-body experience – not that he had ever had one before to know for certain. Although, he did have a couple of points of comparison. The state he was in now; dead, and yet not dead, was disturbingly similar to how he had been after dying that very first time, and again after his confrontation with Abaddon. _

_Then again, perhaps not the first one. He had no memories, per se, of that very first death by Dalek death ray. Mortal death, that had been, whereas all his deaths thereafter had been more like extremely deep comas. No, this was more like how it had been after Abaddon – utterly drained of everything, only the tiniest spark left and not enough strength to drag himself back into life._

_He tried to open his eyes, to look through the void for some way of pulling himself out of the darkness, but he lacked the strength even for that. He felt like he was so heavily weighted down that he couldn't move for trying. It felt as though his limbs were made of lead and the cold... He was so damned cold. It was as though the very blood in his veins had turned to ice._

_He tried to imagine an eternity of this, trapped in this state of nothingness, and he wanted to scream. The will was there, but not the physical or mental strength to follow through on the desire._

_No tears to weep, no voice to scream. He was trapped, with no way to either fight his way back to life, or pass fully into death. An eternity of this would surely drive him insane, if indeed he was not there already._

_And yet... not alone. The realisation came gradually that there was another presence somewhere in the darkness. For a moment that felt like forever, he was terrified. The words of another came back to haunt him._

_Something in the dark... Something coming for him..._

_But then, his fear subsided as he realised there was nothing threatening in that presence. In fact, the stronger it got, the warmer he felt. Slowly, he could feel that terrible, pervasive iciness leaving his body, to be replaced with a comforting warmth that was increasing in strength with every moment that passed._

_He half expected the stereotypical light to appear, or to feel himself being tugged back to life, but there was none of that. Instead, he gradually became conscious of fingers lightly stroking his temple, a warm hand grasping his own and cool lips pressing gently to his own, breathing precious oxygen back into his lungs. The hand holding his squeezed as a familiar voice whispered in his mind._

_'Time to come home, Captain...'_

* * *

The Doctor sensed Jack stirring beneath him and, even though he knew that he probably didn't need to, he continued the gentle kiss. Jack would have a ball with him over it later on, no doubt, but right then he just wanted to be sure that Jack would not slip back into death.

It was only when he felt Jack's lips part beneath his own, and experienced the subtle swipe of the Captain's tongue against his lips, that the Doctor jerked backwards and focused a quasi-serious glare at the young immortal. He couldn't quite conceal his delight, though, at the sight of pale blue eyes staring back at him, and those lips quirking upwards in a familiar, cheeky grin.

"Satisfied, Captain?" the Doctor asked with an ill-concealed smirk. Jack offered him a lop-sided grin and licked his lips in a gesture that, coming from anyone else, would have been obscene. 

"Not quite," he answered, his voice little more than a whisper. "You moved away."

The Doctor tried to frown, but it was an effort doomed to failure. His delight at seeing Jack alive again overpowered his irritation ten-fold, and for once he found himself revelling in the other man's wrongness. Jack's smile soon faded, though, to be replaced with a palpable fear.

"Ianto and Bobby..."

"Are both safe," the Doctor assured him.

"And the Grysliaak...?"

"Absorbed into the Tardis' power core. It's gone for good, Jack. It'll never come after you again."

"Thankyou," Jack whispered, tears blurring his eyes. The Doctor smiled affectionately at him.

"You're mine, Jack," he told him softly. "No matter where you are or what you're doing, you will always be mine. And whenever you're in trouble, I'll always come, no matter where or when I am."

Tears spilled from Jack's eyes at the Doctor's heartfelt declaration, and for one of the few times in his life he found himself utterly speechless. The Doctor grinned widely, quick to take advantage of the Captain's wordless state. He stepped back from the bed, then, and nodded to Martha.

Jack looked around, and surprise flickered across his features as he registered her presence for the first time. 

"M... Ma..."

His voice finally failed him, his mouth and throat too dry to speak. Martha reacted immediately, picking up a cup of ice chips from the table by the bedside. 

"Here," she murmured, and spooned some chips into his mouth. "Suck on those for a minute, and save the filthy comments."

He smirked, but made no attempt to speak. Sucking softly on the ice, he took huge relief in the sensation of icy liquid hydrating his mouth and running down his throat. 

"Better?" she asked finally, and he nodded slightly.

"Much. Thanks." He reached up and grasped her hand lightly with a grip that trembled very slightly. "Good to see you again, gorgeous."

She blushed slightly and smiled back at him.

"Stop it," the Doctor growled, only half serious. Jack rolled his eyes.

"I was only saying hello."

"Save it for later, Captain. You need rest. It'll be a while before you're back to full strength."

Jack sighed faintly, and he could feel his eyes growing heavy again as exhaustion threatened to claim him.

"Is it over, Doctor...?"

The Doctor stared down at his former companion with very real affection. 

"Yes, Jack. It's over. You can rest, now, Captain. You're safe. You're all safe."

Jack sighed again with relief, and his eyes slid shut despite his best efforts to the contrary.

"He's just sleeping now," Martha confirmed after a moment, and the Doctor nodded.

"He'll be fine, now." Stepping away, he pulled the curtain back from around the bed, and wasn't surprised to discover both Jack's team and the New York police were still watching with looks akin to panic.

"Is he...?" Gwen started to ask, but couldn't finish the sentence. The Doctor regarded her thoughtfully, and before he had a chance to answer her, Bobby spoke up hoarsely.

"Is he alive? Did you bring him back?"

The Doctor's attention switched to Bobby, and he nodded slowly in answer, not oblivious to the intense relief that radiated out from the detective – almost moreso than from Jack's own team.

"Yes, he's alive. He's going to be fine."

"So what now, Doctor?" Alex queried quietly. "You take us back to New York and dump us back at One Police Plaza?"

The Doctor's eyebrows went up at her tone.

"You don't want to go home, Detective?"

"We have three injured people here," she reminded him soberly. "None of them are in a fit state to move anywhere yet."

The bearest hint of a smile graced the Doctor's lips. Whether it was a conscious gesture or not, she had included Jack in her statement, proving to him that she had more than an average level of compassion.

"We're in the Vortex, Detective," he told her with kindly smile. "We have all the time in the world. There's no need to us to return to Earth until everyone here is healthy again."

He paused, sparing Jack a fond look before sweeping out of the med bay, and leaving them all alone to talk amongst themselves.

"I can't decide whether he's genuinely enigmatic, or just a genuine pain in the arse," Owen retorted dryly once the Doctor had gone. 

"Shut it, Owen," Gwen told him again with a frown. "He saved Jack, Ianto and Bobby's lives. Try showing a bit of gratitude for once, yeah?"

Owen snorted, but didn't answer. 

"Jack always believed he'd come for us," Bobby said suddenly, in a quiet voice which nevertheless filling the room. "He didn't stop hoping, even when he was as scared and me and Ianto."

"Scared," Owen echoed. "That's not an emotion that Jack lets show very often. Sometimes think he isn't capable of being scared."

Martha peered down at Jack's sleeping form sadly. A moment later she stood up and headed for the door.

"He's capable," she said heavily on her way out the door. "Probably far more capable than you know, Dr Harper."

And then she, too, was gone, leaving most of them to wonder exactly what she really meant.

* * *

_tbc..._


	22. Home Is Where The Heart Is

A/N: _Serious fluff in this chapter. And my apologies to all CI fans - this chapter is ALL about Jack and Ianto._

* * *

Jack awoke next to a comforting darkness, surrounded by the reassuring hum of the Tardis engines. He lay still and silent for a long while, relishing the feeling of renewed strength in his body.

He really did not want to open his eyes. The moment that he did, reality would intrude and he would be one step closer to having to leave the Tardis once more. The last time, he'd had a genuine invitation to stay, and it had just about killed him to walk away. The one thing that had saved his sanity had been knowing he was coming home to Ianto, and Ianto was the one solid reason he had for staying now.

It still hurt. Some deeper instinct told him that it would always hurt, but somehow that hurt was not anywhere near as pronounced when he thought of the young Welshman who had supported him unfailingly.

Slowly, sounds began to encroach on his consciousness. Voices murmured softly, gradually making him aware of other people nearby. And then, at the point when he felt he could no longer keep up the act, the Doctor's voice sounded in his ear.

"Open your eyes, Captain. I know you're awake."

With some reluctance, Jack opened his eyes to find the Doctor hovering over him, a wry grin on his face.

"Welcome back," the Doctor greeted him with a broad smile. Jack shifted, and was gratified to be able to push himself up into a sitting position. He looked around, expecting to see his team and the NYPD detectives around the room, but it was empty of all but himself, the Doctor and Martha. His chest tightened fractionally as panic momentarily threatened to claim him.

"Where... Where's Ianto?"

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, that wasn't the first thing I expected you to say."

"Where is he?" Jack asked, the bearest hint of hysteria in his voice.

"He's fine," the Doctor assured him. "He's in the gardens with all the others. Has been for the better part of the day, as a matter of fact. Both he and Bobby are perfectly fine. You're the only one still needing care, Jack."

Jack shuddered at the surge of relief that met the Doctor's words, only to follow that with a miserable groan. He pressed his hands over his face, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

"I nearly got him killed... Nearly got them both killed."

The Doctor paused, and then sat carefully on the edge of the bed and fixed Jack with his best no-nonsense look.

"It wasn't your fault, Jack. If you want to blame someone, then blame the Master. Without him, that thing would never have known you even existed. It would never have ended up on Earth. That wasn't your fault."

Not speaking to start with, Jack swung himself around and pushed himself to his feet, only to sway dangerously. In an instant, the Doctor and Martha were at his side.

"What do you think you're doing?" Martha demanded to know as she tried to guide Jack back down onto the bed. He resisted, and tried to walk towards the door.

"Gotta see him. Gotta talk to him."

"Wait!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Jack, wait! Just... wait."

Jack slowed to a halt and looked sideways at the Doctor.

"What? I'm okay... Just a little woozy. I want to see my boyfriend, and make sure he's okay. I need him, Doctor. And anyway, I'm in the Tardis. What the hell is gonna happen to me here?"

"Well, you may have a point, but even so..."

The Doctor trailed off, staring at Jack incredulously. "I'm sorry... Did you just say 'boyfriend'?"

Jack stared back at him, unembarrassed.

"I think that's what I said. Pretty sure it is. Yep, it is. My boyfriend, Ianto."

A broad grin suddenly split across the Doctor's face.

"Good for you, Jack! Good for you. But, you're still not up to wandering around the Tardis."

Jack scowled, but the crushing wave of dizziness that crashed through him quickly stymied any further protests. Rather than force him back to the bed, though, the Doctor patted his shoulder and offered a compromise.

"How about we take you to your room, and I'll bring Ianto to you. Acceptable, Captain?"

It looked for a moment as though Jack might actually argue. But then, abruptly, his shoulders slumped and he nodded.

"Okay."

* * *

Ianto walked along the corridor, just a step behind the Doctor. The Time Lord had come to the gardens just a short while ago, and told him quietly that Jack was awake and wanted to see him. Equally nervous and eager, Ianto went, but was both surprised and confused when they went straight past the med bay without so much as a glance in.

"He's not in there now," the Doctor explained without a glance backwards. "I took him to his own room. Bit more comfortable than the med bay. Thought he might actually get a bit of rest in there."

"His... Sorry, _his _room?"

The Doctor nodded.

"That's right. All my companions have had their own rooms, and all of their rooms remain untouched after they leave... however they happen to go. Jack's no exception."

"How long did he travel with you for?" Ianto wondered.

"Well, you have to understand that it wasn't a linear timeline... You know, wibbly wobbly, timey wimey..." He paused, glancing back at Ianto only to be deflated by the young man's blank look of incomprehension. "Okay, never mind. At a rough estimate? I'd say it was about three months."

"Three months?" Ianto echoed. "He spent three months _with_ you, and then spent over a hundred years pining _after_ you?" He shook his head, incredulous. "The immortality thing really did screw his head up for a while, didn't it?"

"Oi, steady on there," the Doctor retorted, hearing the unspoken insult in the young man's tone. Ianto, however, was unrelenting.

"You left him behind, Doctor. I understand he wanted to find you because he needed answers about what had happened to him, but that doesn't explain his ongoing... infatuation with you."

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but Ianto beat him to it.

"The only reason I haven't already tried to hit you is because I know for a fact that Jack has already forgiven you for it. He's forgiven you, but it still hurts him to know that you deliberately left him behind."

"He's told you that?" the Doctor asked in a suddenly subdued tone. Ianto regarded him darkly.

"He didn't need to. His nightmares speak for him."

That silenced the Doctor momentarily. It came as no surprise that Jack had nightmares, but the Doctor had assumed those nightmares revolved exclusively around that year. It hadn't occurred to him that perhaps Jack still suffered emotionally and mentally over being abandoned on Satellite Five.

"He has nightmares about it?" the Doctor asked softly, though he wasn't so certain that he wanted to know.

"More frequently than he's willing to admit. He denies it, but it's a bit of a giveaway when he cries out things like 'don't leave me' and 'please come back', in his sleep."

The Doctor shut his eyes as he came to a halt by a door, an unpleasant feeling of guilt sweeping through him.

"I wish I could say I'd change it if I could, but..."

"But you wouldn't."

"No."

It was said regretfully, but not apologetically. Ianto looked away, feeling the old anger threatening to bubble to the surface once more.

"He did go back for you, Ianto," the Doctor went on quietly. "I asked him to come with me again, when it was all over with. I would have welcomed him back on board, but he refused. He said he kept thinking about his team during that year... but it was your face that was in the forefront of his mind. He refused an offer to travel with me again because he wanted to go home to _you_."

Ianto's breath caught in his throat. He had a vivid memory of the night Jack had come back to them, and of his quiet, sincere statement that he had come back for him; followed quickly by a similar statement to include the entire team. But the Captain's eyes had been on him, and Ianto had dared to allow himself to hope that maybe it wasn't just a line to get back into his good graces.

He had no doubt, after the efforts Jack had gone to over the last couple of months, that the Captain was genuine in his desire for a serious relationship, but still Ianto resisted on some minor level. Still, there had been doubts in his mind that Jack really, truly wanted him, and he harboured a deepset fear that Jack would still be willing to drop everything and go chasing after his Doctor once more.

Hearing the affirmation from the Doctor's own lips, though, cemented it in Ianto's own mind and put paid to any lingering doubts.

The Doctor motioned to the door.

"Go ahead. He's waiting for you."

With a grudging murmur of thanks, Ianto opened the door and went inside.

* * *

He found Jack sitting on the edge of a large, comfortable-looking bed, with what looked like an old RAF cap in his hands. Ianto paused just inside the doorway, looking around the room briefly, and thoroughly intrigued by this glimpse into Jack's life before Torchwood. There wasn't a whole lot in the room, although Ianto had no idea whether that was down to the short time Jack had travelled with the Doctor or if there was some other reason.

His eyes were drawn to a coat rack in the corner of the room, and to the grey coat that hung on it – so similar to the greatcoat that Jack now favoured.

"I had that when I first met the Doctor," Jack explained quietly in answer to the unspoken question. "I was playing at being an American volunteer in London during the Blitz. I missed having it after the Doctor... after the Gamestation. Had to wait seventy-two years after landing back on Earth before I could lay my hands on another one."

Ianto crossed the floor and sat down beside Jack. After a moment's consideration, he reached across and took the cap from Jack's hands.

"You wore this?"

"Had the whole uniform. Looked good in it, too. Although, I wouldn't go for the cravat look again. Especially not after Bilis."

Ianto smiled faintly. He wholeheartedly agreed there.

"Jack..."

"I'm sorry," Jack said quickly, with the slightest hint of panic in his voice. Ianto eyed him incredulously.

"For what?"

"For... Well... I mean..."

It took a supreme effort on Ianto's part not to laugh.

"You don't even know what you're apologising for, do you?"

Jack shrugged awkwardly.

"I was kinda hoping it'd cover pretty much everything I've done wrong since we arrived in New York."

A small, wry smile quirked across Ianto's lips.

"Did it occur to you that you don't need to apologise for anything?"

The look on Jack's face strongly suggested he didn't believe that.

"I don't? Why not?"

"Well, contrary to what I might have led you to believe, Jack, you haven't actually done anything wrong."

"No? You were pretty angry at me for the whole 'giving myself up to save everyone else' plan of action."

"Yes, I was," Ianto agreed. "But I also understand what you were trying to do. And besides, something you said when we were in the tunnels redeemed you for that."

"Really?" Jack wondered. "Care to tell me what, so I can use it again next time I piss you off?"

Ianto's smile broadened fractionally.

"You said you were relying on me to come back for you."

Jack answered that with silence. He remembered it well enough, and he remembered the sheer terror he'd been feeling at the time. What he'd said had been the truth. The thought of being left alone, at the mercy of the Grysliaak, had nearly paralysed him with fear, and it was only the knowledge that Ianto wouldn't abandon him that had kept him functioning. Of course, he hadn't anticipated Bobby taking the initiative, knocking him out and carrying him down the tunnel, either.

"I was," he said finally when he found his voice again. "I was relying on you."

Ianto put the cap aside, and took Jack's hand in his own.

"You were relying on me."

"Yes," Jack whispered, and felt something break inside of him as he realised just what he had said. Tears came before he could stop them, and a moment later he found himself wrapped up in Ianto's loving and protective embrace.

"I always knew that I needed you, Jack," Ianto whispered as his lover and his Captain sobbed softly into his shoulder. "But I was never sure if you really needed me, until that moment. Now I know for sure."

"Always needed you," Jack whispered, hugging Ianto back clumsily. "I love you, Ianto."

Ianto smiled tearfully, his heart swelling at the sound of those precious words. He knew well enough that Jack was not one to throw out those words on a whim. Oh, he was a master of the language of seduction, but in the time that Ianto had known Jack, he had never heard him say those three particular words. Not to anyone. To hear them now, being said to him, was enough to bring him to tears.

He tightened his hold on the Captain, and pressed his lips gently to the older man's temple.

"I love you too, Jack. C'mon, lie down now. The Doctor was right. You need to rest."

Jack didn't object as Ianto urged him to lie down, but caught his lover's hand before Ianto could move away.

"Lay with me?" he asked with the puppy dog eyes that Ianto had never been able to resist.

Ianto slipped his freshly laundered jacket off and hung it on the coat rack with the grey greatcoat before laying down on the bed beside Jack. He guided Jack to roll over onto his side, and Ianto spooned in behind him, sliding his arms around to hold Jack close.

Silence reigned for the next few minutes, and Ianto was starting to wonder whether Jack had, indeed, managed to fall asleep when a sleepy voice spoke.

"So... Would you really have a heart attack if I asked you to marry me?"

Ianto nearly choked.

"Jack..."

Jack's hand gripped his reassuringly, and Ianto fancied he could sense his lover grinning in response.

"Just wondering. Sleep now."

Ianto rolled his eyes and settled down behind Jack, nuzzling his shoulder lightly. Sleep took them both at the same time, safe and secure in a loving embrace.

* * *

"Look at that," Martha whispered when she and the Doctor looked in on the couple half an hour later. Both men were fast asleep in each other's arms, Jack having rolled over at some point so that they were laying face to face. Ianto's head was pressing in against Jack's chest, while Jack's cheek nuzzled the top of Ianto's head. It made for a truly touching sight.

"Would never have believed Jack was capable of monogomy," the Doctor said wryly, winning himself a light slap on the shoulder from Martha.

"Stop it, you. Leave 'em alone." She took a step into the room, reaching out tentatively as though she wanted to touch the sleeping lovers, only to pull back again. "Mum asked me to do something when we found Jack, you know. She wanted me to hold him, and let him know he wasn't alone. I guess I don't need to after all, do I?" She looked back at him, taking in his expression with a frown. "What are you looking like that for? Aren't you happy for them?"

The Doctor smiled sadly.

"I am," he assured her. "I'm happy for them both, Martha. I just..."

He trailed off, not wanting to speak the worry that was on his mind; not wanting to spoil the beautiful moment by pointing out the bitter reality that, like himself, Jack was condemned to watching those he loved die while he lived on. Martha eyed him with a slight frown.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," the Doctor murmured, offering her a brave smile as they retreated from the room. "Nothing at all."

* * *

_tbc_...


	23. The Art of Negotiation

A/N: Bobby will be back in the next chapter, I promise. And for anyone intensely unhappy with the direction this story is headed in, please remember it's AU, meaning that it doesn't strictly have to be realistic according to CI canon. That, and I have precious little control over my muse.

* * *

Jack awoke what might have been hours, or even days later. He didn't really know, and it didn't really matter. Inside the TARDIS, whilst she hung in the vortex, the passage of time was irrelevant. All he knew was that he felt refreshed, more so than he had since returning home after year that no one else remembered.

He looked around him, smiling lovingly at the walls of the ship, and knew without a doubt that she was at least partially responsible for his peaceful rest. Reaching back, he caressed the coral wall with his fingertips.

"Thankyou, beautiful. Best sleep I've had for a long time."

She purred her pleasure right back to him, making him laugh softly.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know. I love you, too."

"Will you please stop flirting with my ship?"

Jack looked back around, and for the first time spotted the Doctor sitting in the far corner of the room.

"She likes it when I do," Jack pointed out.

"Yes, I know. And then I have to put up with her sulking for days after you've swanned off again. So just stop, all right?"

A mirthful chuckle escaped Jack, and he pushed himself slowly up into a sitting position.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"Only a few minutes… give or take an hour or two."

Somehow, Jack wasn't surprised.

"You've been watching us sleep for the last two hours."

It was not intended as a question, and the Doctor didn't treat it as such. Nor did he deny it.

"Well… I didn't have anything better to do, and you _do_ make a cute couple."

A slight frown momentarily creased Jack's brow.

"You didn't take photos, did you?"

"Me? No! Of course not!"

"Just as well…"

"The TARDIS, on the other hand…"

Jack shut his eyes, willing himself not to react. When he opened his eyes again, the Doctor was grinning shamelessly at him, and it was all he could do not to pick up a pillow and throw it at the Time Lord.

"And they say I'm incorrigible."

The Doctor snorted, but didn't rise to the bait, instead choosing to shift the subject matter along.

"How are you feeling now, Jack?"

Jack paused in answering, his eyes flickering sideways to the empty space next to him in the bed.

"Where's Ianto?"

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted slightly in bemusement.

"I must be losing my touch. That's the second time you've been distracted from me by your young man, when he's not even in the same room! He must be something special, to have snared _you_ like this."

Jack sighed as he edged out of the bed. He wasn't quite sure whether to be disappointed or relieved to find that he was clad in a pair of satin boxer shorts.

"He is special, to me. And if you won't tell me where he is, I'll go find him myself."

"Relax, Jack," the Doctor told him bluntly. "He's just having a shower. Didn't wake up very long before you, as a matter of fact."

Jack sighed again, and his shoulders slumped a little as he relaxed.

"Okay, then."

The Doctor stared hard at Jack for a long moment before walking over and sitting on the bed beside him.

"You really do love him, don't you?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Coming from you? No, Jack, it isn't."

Encouraged by the sincere words, Jack finally answered the Doctor's question.

"Yes, I do," the Captain admitted, and the Doctor could sense the sadness, and the pain of anticipated loss in his words. "I love him so much that it hurts."

A small, sad smile touched the Doctor's lips.

"That isn't necessarily a bad thing, Jack."

"I know. But I'm trying really hard not to think ahead right now. I know that I will eventually lose him… one way or another… and that's going to hurt even worse."

"I know," the Doctor murmured, full of sympathy for his friend. It was a curse he had had to live with for nine hundred years, and would not have wished on anyone else. It broke his hearts that Jack, with such a huge capacity to love, had to suffer in such a way. "I wish I had a solution for you, Jack, but I don't. If I did, I would have used it myself long ago."

"I know. I just wish…"

"You wish what?"

Jack looked up at him tearfully.

"Sometimes I wish Rose had let me stay dead."

The Doctor took great care to hide his disappointment at that blunt statement.

"Really."

A door on the far side of the room opened up suddenly, and Ianto emerged, towelling off his wet hair. As the Doctor watched, Jack's face lit up like a beacon.

"And then I get a reminder of why I'm glad she didn't," he murmured, more to himself than to the Doctor.

Ianto paused just inside the doorway, eyeing the two of them bemusedly.

"Talking about me, I presume?"

Jack rose to his feet and crossed the floor to Ianto, catching him up in a ferocious embrace and kiss.

"Are you okay?" Ianto asked with a hint of concern once their lips finally parted. Jack smiled.

"Yes, I think maybe I am."

Ianto smiled in return, and then leaned in to murmur something into Jack's ear in Welsh. Jack's face lit up and he grinned possibly the most evil grin that Ianto had ever seen on his face.

"Ianto Jones, you have a filthy mind."

Ianto looked startled.

"How do you know what I said? You don't speak Welsh!"

The Doctor coughed conspicuously at that point.

"Sentient ship? Instant translation? Hello, anyone…?"

"Don't worry," Jack murmured, hugging Ianto to him with affection. "I think that's one idea that's definitely worth following up on."

Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Incorrigible."

"Mm, I hope so."

"Jack, stop it. Have you spoken to the Doctor yet about Bobby?"

At that, Jack shook his head, and all signs of amusement vanished from his face.

"No, not yet."

"Good, because I think you need to include Alex in that as well."

Jack stared at him in astonishment.

"What? Why?"

"Because, Jack, she'd be an incredible asset. She's got street smarts, she's good with computers, she's compassionate, she faced a weevil without going into a screaming fit, and she accepted this whole situation without having any sort of a breakdown."

"So did Ross. Should I try recruiting him, too?"

"Don't be an idiot. I just think you'll stand a better chance of convincing Bobby to join us if you include Alex, and it's important to recognise that she would be as valuable to Torchwood as Bobby."

Movement at his shoulder alerted Jack to the fact that the Doctor had moved from where he was sitting on the bed.

"Could one of you please tell me what you're talking about before I get annoyed?"

Jack swung back around to face the Doctor, at the same time placing himself surreptitiously between Ianto and the Time Lord.

"I want to expand my team. I want Bobby Goren to join Torchwood."

Ianto coughed, and Jack rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

"Bobby Goren _and_ Alex Eames. I want to set up a base in New York, with them running it."

"Jack…" the Doctor growled in warning, clearly unhappy with the proposal. "I told you before, do _not_ go trying to replicate Torchwood London. I don't want you building your own personal empire, like Yvonne Hartman! I swore I would never allow Torchwood to attain the power it had before, and I meant it! I warned you before, Jack. Do _not_ test me on this!"

By the time he'd finished speaking, he was almost shouting, and his eyes were flashing with fire as he focused his growing anger at the man in front of him. He was every bit the Oncoming Storm as he exploded at Jack, but though frustration flashed across Jack's face, he stayed admirably calm.

"Doctor, I am not Yvonne Hartman."

"Thank God for not so small favours," Ianto muttered from where he was standing just behind Jack. The Captain barely withheld a smirk as he went on.

"The reason I'm asking is because I think New York may have a rift as well, like Cardiff but on a smaller scale. They've got weevils turning up here, for crying out loud! And God knows there's enough other weird crap to validate having a Torchwood branch here. Look, I'm not trying to create an empire. You should know that. I'm just trying to protect the planet in the best way I know how. You can't be everywhere at once, Doctor, anymore than I can. This is the best way I know to try and keep the Earth safe."

The Doctor eyed Jack critically, mulling over his friend's words. He didn't doubt Jack's sincerity, but good intentions had a nasty way of ricocheting out of control.

"Perhaps we can see if New York really does have a rift?" Ianto suggested lightly when neither man appeared to be backing down. The Doctor conceded to the suggestion with a slow nod.

"All right. Both of you, finish getting dressed. I will not have you walking around the TARDIS in your shorts, Captain. This isn't like the old days. Then come and meet me in the control room."

Then, he turned and swept out of the room. Ianto shot Jack a wry look.

"Well, I suppose that could have gone worse. He is rather frightening when he's angry, though, isn't he?"

Jack answered that with a derisive snort, though the sudden pallor in his face suggested he was more affected by the Time Lord's anger than he cared to let on.

"You have no idea. But if you think that's bad, just wait until I ask him to fix the teleport function on my manipulator. That's when the fireworks will really happen. And I don't mean that in a good way."

* * *

"You didn't really used to walk around here in your shorts, did you?" Ianto wondered as Jack led him to the control room.

"No, of course I didn't. Never wore shorts at all."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ianto muttered with an all-too-familiar eye roll.

"Hey!" Jack protested with mock indignity. "You know how I sleep! I was not getting dressed just to go take a leak!"

Ianto regarded Jack in open amusement.

"Hence the ensuite?"

"Yeah, well, that appeared after Rose got an eyeful. Didn't bother me... Not so sure it bothered her, either, but the Doctor wasn't too happy with me, and neither was the Tardis. She locked me in my room for three days straight, until I promised her it wouldn't happen again. The next day the ensuite was there."

Ianto snorted his amusement.

"Again, not surprised."

Jack shot Ianto a look, but said nothing.

* * *

They arrived in the control room to find the Doctor waiting for them with a sullen frown. Jack exchanged glances with Ianto, and spoke in a quiet, rueful tone.

"I'm right, aren't I? There is a rift through New York."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and regarded Jack critically.

"Yes. As near as I can estimate, it's been there for approximately four and a half months."

Jack heard Ianto swallow hard, and reached out to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew the significance of that particular time frame. Four and a half months ago, four members of Torchwood Three fully opened the rift in Cardiff, sending shockwaves right across the world. It was not unreasonable to assume that despite closing the Cardiff rift, that shockwave would have triggered other rifts.

"I was afraid of that," Jack said in a sombre tone.

"You know, the only thing saving you right now," the Doctor said, "is the completely lack of excitement in your voice."

Jack stared wearily at the Doctor, still clinging to Ianto's hand.

"Do you think I'm happy about it, Doctor? Believe me, I'm not, but I have to deal with it."

"By setting up another Torchwood branch," the Doctor interjected with ill-concealed venom in his tone. Jack's expression changed to one of grief.

"Don't you trust me at all, Doctor? I told you, you're not here all the time! What the hell else am I supposed to do? Just ignore it? They've got weevils there, for crying out loud!"

"Actually," the Doctor retorted, turning back to the consol, "I did a bit of checking there. That weevil of yours came from the Valiant, the same as the Grysliaak. The Master kept one on board for his own personal amusement. From what I can work out, UNIT was transporting it, and it got out. Ended up in New York, and was hiding in the sewers until recently."

"So weevils are still a Cardiff-centric issue," Ianto remarked dryly. "Lovely."

"But they _do_ have a rift there," Jack persisted. "Someone needs to monitor it, and I can't be in two places at once."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow in bemusement, and Jack flushed red as he realised what he'd said.

"Okay, so I _can_ be in two places at once. But you know what I mean!"

The Doctor stared hard at Jack before sighing, and the anger fled his face.

"You're right… Of course you're right… and I ought to trust you by now. Rassilon knows, you've trusted me enough, and at times when you had no good reason to. All right, you can set up a base in New York, but mind you, you had better keep a strict eye on it. No funny business, Jack. I mean it."

"No funny business," Jack promised sincerely. "I swear."

"All right, then. Hand it over."

Jack blinked, caught off-guard.

"Sorry…?"

"Your manipulator, Jack! Hand it over, before I change my mind."

Jack hastened to unstrap the device from his wrist, and hand it to the Doctor.

"Mind you," the Doctor said as he turned his sonic screwdriver on it, "I'm only enabling the standard teleport on this, and only for use on Earth. I'm not having you hopping back and forth all over the place. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jack answered, unable and unwilling to hide the delight that radiated out from his beaming face. The Doctor eyed him threateningly.

"Just make sure that you do, Captain."

* * *

_tbc..._


	24. Safe & Sound

A/N: _This is starting to wind down now, but there is still a bit to come…  
I think I've managed to fix all of the embarrassing typos. Apologies - I'm experimenting with a new notebook computer, and the keyboard is seriously **TINY**._

* * *

The TARDIS materialised back in the middle of the squad room, late at night. It was something of a surprise when they filed out to discover nearly the entire Major Case Squad waiting there anxiously. There was no cheer when the door of the TARDIS opened and they made their way out single file, but the relief on all the faces was plain to see.

"Not so crazy after all," Mike admitted, stepping forward to face the Doctor. "I was wrong. I'm sorry. Thankyou for bringing them home. All of them."

The Doctor eyes Mike critically before nodding his approval. He glanced around, and his gaze found Ross's.

"You have good people here, Captain. I hope you appreciate them."

Ross glanced pointedly at Bobby.

"I do. Believe me, I do."

The Doctor then turned his attention to Jack.

"Captain."

Jack stepped forward.

"Doctor, thankyou. Again."

The Doctor smile widely, and reached out to grasp Jack's shoulders firmly.

"No, Jack. Thank_you_. For everything. I know you've struggled after the what happened on the Valiant, and I'm so sorry for that, but it's going to get better. I promise you."

Jack's eyes shifted from the Doctor to fall on Ianto, and he smiled.

"I know."

And suddenly, without warning, Jack found himself pulled into a fierce hug.

"I meant what I said, Jack," he told the Captain in a soft voice. "I'll be here for you, no matter where or when I am. And, I trust your judgement, but tread carefully. You know as well as I do how easily Torchwood can destroy lives."

Jack nodded, shamelessly burying his face against the Time Lord's shoulder. He knew what the Doctor meant, and he would not make any offers lightly.

"All right, then," the Doctor said, drawing back from the immortal with a smile. "Ladies? Martha, ready to go home, then?"

Martha stepped in and threw her arms around Jack in an affectionate hug.

"Don't be a stranger, all right? Anytime you need to talk, you call me or the family. Orders from Mum, yeah?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Jack answered, smiling perhaps a little sadly. Martha stretched up to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't deal with it alone when you don't have to. You're not alone, and don't forget it."

She turned, and winked at Ianto as she made her way back into the TARDIS.

"Donna?" the Doctor called out, only to roll his eyes when he caught her handing her phone number to one of the detectives. Striding over, he caught hold of her arm and began to haul her back towards the TARDIS. "Will you come on? Honestly…"

"Oi, leave off, alien boy!" she growled, shrugging free of his grip and stalking back into the TARDIS. Jack couldn't resist smirking at the Doctor.

"Got yourself a real livewire there."

"Oh, don't I know it," the Doctor muttered ruefully. "It's like having Francine Jones and Jackie Tyler rolled into one."

From inside the TARDIS, two indignant voices hollered out at him.

"_I heard that_!"

The Doctor spared Jack a very distinct 'why me' smile before nodding and disappearing back into his ship. The doors swung shut, and a familiar grinding noise filled the air as the time machine vanished from sight.

"And I suppose now we have to begin Operation Clean-Up," Owen said resignedly.

"And we have a shit-load of paperwork to do," Mike said grimly, with the air of one resigned to having to do an extremely unpleasant task. Ross, however, shook his head.

"No, Logan. There'll be no paperwork on this. Right, Captain Harkness?"

"Right," Jack confirmed. "Tell me, Captain Ross, can your squad be trusted to keep what's happened here to themselves?"

Ross didn't answer immediately, but rather took the time to look around slowly, making eye contact with each and every detective present before replying to the question.

"Yes," he answered finally, with a certainty that couldn't be disregarded. "They can. What's gone on here won't ever be repeated. Not even inside this squad room."

Jack appeared satisfied, and deliberately ignored the uneasy surprise expressed by his own team.

"Okay, then. We'll only need to deal with a few outsiders, then. That's good, makes our job a lot easier. For now, though, I think we'll head back to our hotel and get some extra rest. Operation Clean-Up can wait until tomorrow."

Slowly the squad began to disperse, each of them filing out after pausing to tell Bobby they were glad he was safe.

"You see?" Alex said to her partner quietly as he attempted somewhat pointlessly to put his desk in order. "They were all worried about you. None of them would do anything else while you were missing."

"I appreciate it," Bobby murmured distractedly. Alex frowned slightly.

"What is it, Bobby? Talk to me."

He paused, and his gaze fixed on a point beyond her. Alex looked around, and felt an inexplicable chill go through her at the sight of Jack, standing nearby and watching them both intently. She swung back to look at Bobby, having to make a conscious effort to stay calm.

"Bobby, what is going on?"

"Can we go somewhere?" he asked softly. "Maybe get a coffee... I need to talk to you."

He was looking pale and sick, and she wondered with alarm whether perhaps he wasn't as well-recovered from his ordeal as they had all assumed. Perhaps the hours... or was it days...? spent on that freaky ship hadn't been enough at all. Then again, she mused, this was Bobby. He'd said he needed to talk to her, so odds were that there was something specific that he was torturing himself over – and oh, but he was _good_ at that.

"Let's head back to my place," she told him, her tone leaving no room for argument. "C'mon."

He followed her like a subdued puppy, and as they left the squad room she hazarded another glance back. Jack had vanished inside the task room, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was still watching them. She knew she shouldn't let it bother her. It was more likely that Jack perhaps felt some degree of guilt over Bobby being taken... or rather, that was what she desperately wanted to believe.

It wasn't, she told herself fiercely, anything else at all.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were comfortably ensconced on the sofa in Alex's apartment, nursing fresh mugs of hot coffee. Alex took a sip, and then grimaced and sighed as she set the mug down on the coffee table.

"God, I think I've been spoiled. That is nowhere near as good as the coffee Ianto made. I wonder if he'd be willing to share his secret?"

When she got no response, she leaned across and nudged Bobby lightly.

"Talk to me, Bobby. What's going on inside that head of yours?"

Bobby looked around, visibly distracted.

"I... I like your new apartment."

Her eyebrows rose.

"You _have_ been here before, Bobby. You helped me move, remember?"

"I know," he mumbled, and promptly went back to looking at the coffee mug in his hands. Alex sighed and plucked the mug carefully out of his hands, setting it beside hers on the coffee table.

"What's wrong, Bobby? It's something to do with Jack, I know that much."

He sat back, scrubbing his hands over his face in an al-too-familiar gesture of frustration.

"I'm not sure where to even start," he admitted.

"Try from the beginning?" she suggested lightly. "Why don't you tell me what happened while you were missing?"

He considered that for a minute before answering.

"I was scared," he confessed, "but it wasn't a paralysing fear. I mean, I knew the danger I was in, but I also knew that it wasn't me... or Ianto... that it really wanted. It was always Jack. He was the one who was in the most danger... maybe even more so because he _can't_ die. You know, his back was broken when that thing threw him against the wall in the alley? When he woke up, he was paralysed from the waist down."

"And it just... healed?" Alex asked, a touch incredulously.

"After a couple of hours, yes. It hurt him, though. All the nerves coming back together... He screamed from the pain, Alex. It hurt him so much."

Alex stared down at the mugs in front of them.

"It must hurt every time. I wonder how he deals with that... with all that pain, and trauma. It'd have to do something to him, dying over and over like that."

"Give a whole new meaning to the phrase, doesn't it?" Bobby mused. "Whatever doesn't kill us only makes us stronger."

Alex snorted.

"Or drives us mad." She shook her head. "I wouldn't want it, you know. Immortality. Especially not like that. I don't envy him, Bobby. Not at all."

"Neither do I," Bobby agreed. "Alex, he wants me to join Torchwood."

She froze where she sat, feeling an icy rush through her body. When she did eventually speak, it was with a forced calm.

"I assuming that we're not talking about it in a casual, on-the-side consultancy."

"No," Bobby murmured.

"And you're obviously considering it, or it would never have come up for discussion."

He didn't answer. Alex sighed and stood up.

"I think I need fresh coffee before we can take this discussion any further."

He sat in silence, waiting until she was seated beside him once more before daring to look at her. He was genuinely surprised to discover no anger in her expression as she watched him - just a sad sort of resignation, like this was something she had long expected.

"You... don't look angry..." he stammered, and her eyebrows rose in bemusement.

"Did you think I would be? Ah, Bobby... I know you haven't been happy since Deakins retired. To be honest, I've been bracing myself for a while to hear that you'd finally accepted an offer from one of those places that's always head-hunting you. I guess I'm just surprised that of all of them, the one you're seriously considering is a group that probably helped to invent the phrase 'conspiracy theory'. But I'm not angry, Bobby. How can I possibly have the right to be angry when you're finally starting to think of yourself ahead of everyone else? You spent so long putting everyone else first... Your mother especially, and no. Before you say it, no that wasn't wrong. But she's gone now, and it's time you started taking care of your own best interests. And don't you dare use our partnership as an excuse to turn it down. Yes, it's been good, but nothing lasts forever..." She paused, and grimaced. "Well, except for Jack Harkness, apparently. But anyway, sooner or later one of us would have moved on, and as much as I know I'd miss you, at least I know you'd be happy with what you're doing. And let's face it, Bobby. An agency where you don't have to kowtow to politics? Or worry about stepping on someone's sensitivities? And a boss who has even fewer inhibitions than you do! That would be absolutely perfect for you. It really would."

"Well," Bobby said awkwardly, "nothing's actually been said yet. For all I know, I might have totally misread the situation..."

Alex shook her head, thinking back to the way Jack had been watching them... No, she corrected herself. The way he'd been watching Bobby.

"I don't think you're wrong, Bobby. But... would you really be willing to leave New York? For Cardiff?"

Bobby smiled faintly at her incredulity.

"Cardiff isn't that bad, Alex. I've been there before, when I was still in the army."

She sighed again, and shifted across to lean against him. He hesitantly slipped an arm around her shoulders, and the two of them settled back against the soft sofa together.

"I'll miss you, and so will Mike. And you should know that Ross was just starting to get used to you as well."

Bobby laughed softly, feeling an intense relief as it hit home that she not only accepted the possibility of his leaving the NYPD, but fully supported whatever decision he made.

"Nothing's set in stone, Alex. He may never ask."

"You don't believe that anymore than I do. Just make me one promise, Bobby."

"Mm?"

"Don't let them change who you are."

He smiled wryly, and hugged her to him.

"Don't worry. I won't."

* * *

"Please," Owen said fervently, "tell me we'll be on a plane back home by tomorrow night."

Jack glanced across at Ianto as they all filed into their hotel suite.

"You, Gwen and Tosh will be. Ianto and I will be staying here for a little while longer to take care of some extra business."

Startled silence met his words, and finally Gwen spoke tentatively.

"What extra business is this, Jack?"

"There's a small rift running through New York," Jack explained, deliberately not elaborating on how it came to exist. "The Doctor confirmed it while we were still on the TARDIS."

"And what?" Owen asked with a frown. "You're not gonna try and close it, are you?"

"No need," Jack answered as he began pouring drinks for all of them from the bar. "It just needs to be carefully monitored, like the rift back home in Cardiff."

"Brilliant," Tosh moaned. "As if we didn't have enough work to do already."

A knowing grin filled Jack's face, and they knew then that he already had something well planned out.

"That's not going to be your jobs. I'm going to star up a new branch here in the city. Torchwood Five, New York City."

"And who's going to run it?" Gwen wondered, although the look on her face suggested that she strongly suspected who Jack had chosen.

"I'm hoping that Bobby Goren and Alex Eames will run it," Jack admitted, and Owen snorted loudly.

"Should've known."

"Do you think they would?" Gwen asked. "I mean, they're police officers..."

"So were you," Jack reminded her with an amused smile as he handed drinks to each of them.

"I was just a PC, Jack," she retorted. "They're detectives. It's a little bit different."

"I'm going to offer it to them," Jack went on patiently. "If they refuse, I'll just have to find someone else, but somehow I don't think it's going to be an issue."

"That confident, are you?" Owen asked bemusedly. Jack smiled grimly at him.

"I don't recall any of you saying no to me."

Owen took a mouthful of his drink, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'arrogant bastard'. Jack went on, barely concealing a smirk.

"Ianto and I are going to set it up, and then I'll offer it to them. In the meantime, you three are going to have to cope on your own. And before any of you start complaining, you coped without me once before. You can do it again."

"Excuse me," Owen protested. "Before, it was the four of us. You're keeping Ianto with you, this time."

Jack looked utterly unapologetic, and unashamedly smug, earning himself a familiar eye roll from his lover.

"Yes, I am."

Uneasy looks were traded between Gwen, Tosh and Owen.

"How long is this all likely to take?" Tosh wondered.

"A couple of months, I think," Jack mused. "Three at the most."

Ianto nodded in agreement with Jack's estimate.

"I would say three months. It may take some time to secure a location, but once that's taken care of, it shouldn't take too long."

"Bloody wonderful," Owen grumbled. "We get to go home and deal with all the usual shit, while you and Ianto get a three month holiday!"

"I thought you _wanted_ to go home, Owen," Ianto said snippily, winning himself a rather sour 'fuck off' from the medic.

"Behave, kids," Jack chided lightly. "It's hardly going to be a holiday, Owen. But in case you really do need me, I can be back home in the blink of an eye. The Doctor fixed the teleport function on my manipulator. I'd just prefer not to have to use it unless I really have to. It's like getting your head twisted inside out."

"We'll be fine, Jack," Gwen assured him, and he grinned.

"I know you will be."

* * *

"Remember what I said," Ianto murmured as Jack stripped off and slid into bed beside him. Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm not going to forget, Ianto. I'm going to talk to them both tomorrow, together. Just give them an outline of what's going on, and give them a chance to think about it."

Ianto nodded approvingly.

"We can get it all set up, ready to go, and then come back and see whether they're willing to accept."

"That's the plan. Ianto..."

"Mm?"

"This is the right thing to do, isn't it?"

Ianto hesitated, and then propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Jack in the dim light of the bedroom.

"You're having doubts? You were confident enough when you were pitching it to the Doctor."

"I had to be. He would have picked up on it, otherwise, and used it as an excuse to scuttle the project."

Ianto reached out and brushed his fingertips lovingly down the side of Jack's face.

"It's the right thing to do. I really do believe that, and I believe that Bobby and Alex are an excellent choice to take it on."

The relief that shone in Jack's face was palpable.

"Thankyou," he whispered, and Ianto smiled as he settled back down beside Jack.

"You're welcome."

* * *

_tbc..._


	25. Choices

By the time Bobby and Alex arrived the next morning, they were startled to discover that Jack and his team had already vacated their equipment from within the Major Case offices, and the task rooms in question were back to their original state. In fact, it was almost as though Torchwood had never been there to begin with.

The team still occupied the smaller of the rooms, each of them working on what looked suspiciously to Bobby and Alex like paperwork.

"See?" Alex snorted. "Even they don't get out of doing paperwork."

Bobby smiled wryly, while at the same time feeling a twinge of sadness. Alex had surprised him greatly with her apparent acceptance of the possibility of him leaving not just Major Case, but the NYPD altogether. He'd fully expected her to argue, to tell him not to be a fool... but she'd not done that at all.

All the same, he'd been able to read disappointment in her eyes, and that alone was almost enough to make him forget about accepting any sort of offer that Jack might be inclined to make. Almost, but not quite.

He was quietly surprised by the realisation of just how much he wanted this change – almost enough to chase Jack about it.

He glanced upwards as he caught sight of the enigmatic Torchwood leader exiting the task room and heading out. Jack caught his eye and winked as he went, drawing an amused smile from Bobby. His team was right – the man had no shame.

Still smiling to himself, he settled back into the tasks at hand, and was soon so focused on what he was doing that he didn't even think twice when Alex murmured that she was going out for coffee, and hurried out of the squad room without stopping to grab her shoulder bag and purse.

* * *

Jack had just exited One Police Plaza, on a mission to get some really good coffee for his team, when a petite figure fell in step beside him. He looked sideways, and a grin graced his face.

"Detective Eames, come to join me for coffee? My treat."

She smiled wryly.

"I would never say no to the offer of coffee, Captain."

His grin widened, and he offered his arm to her.

"Shall we, then?"

Amused, she nonetheless accepted, and allowed him to escort her to the nearby coffee shop – all the while promising herself that if any of her colleagues happened to see, she was going to deny everything.

* * *

"I want to talk to you," Alex said abruptly. "About Bobby."

Jack paused, a cup of steaming coffee halfway to his lips.

"Oh? What about him?" Jack asked, his expression giving nothing away.

"He said you told him that you want him to quit the NYPD and join Torchwood."

Jack nodded, watching her thoughtfully.

"I do believe I said something along those lines," he conceded. "Why? Are you going to try and warn me off? Get all territorial?"

She caught sight of the amused glint in his eyes, and couldn't help smiling briefly before becoming serious once more.

"I want to know that you're not just stringing him along. I won't lie to you. He _is_ interested, but you need to understand that he doesn't trust easily. I won't stand by and do nothing if this is all just a laugh to you."

She trailed off as Jack reached across and closed his hand over hers.

"Relax, Alex. I promise you, I'm not stringing him along. I do want Bobby on my team, and I don't kid around when it comes to recruiting people to Torchwood. I won't lie to you, either. He'd probably be a lot safer if he doesn't join us... As a general rule, Torchwood employees tend not to need pension plans. But it's worthwhile, Alex. It always is."

"You're not making me feel any better about this," she admitted uneasily. Jack smiled, withdrew his hand and took a long swallow of coffee.

"I know. I'm sorry. How about this, then? Would you feel better about it if you were there working with him?"

She stared at him, a look on her face that was halfway between shock and complete incredulity as she struggled to find her voice and speak calmly.

"If you're trying to be funny, I should warn you. I have a gun, and I will use it."

He laughed briefly, though the tone of his laughter told her that he wasn't entirely sure that she was kidding.

"I'm not trying to be funny, Alex. I'm serious. I've watched you through all this, and I'm impressed. You've dealt with it well, and you and Bobby make a formidable team. I'd be out of my mind to split you both up."

A grim smile settled onto Alex's face.

"You want me to join, because you're worried that Bobby won't agree if I'm not a part of the package."

Jack winced, and found himself unable to deny the accusation.

"Well…"

"You don't have to worry," she told him flatly. "Bobby and I talked about it last night. I told him to go ahead and accept, if that's what he really wants. So you don't need me after all."

She started to get up, only to be brought up short when Jack's hand shot out and caught hold of her wrist.

"Wait, Alex, please. Sit down. You didn't let me finish."

She sat again slowly, eyeing him with suspicion. Jack eyed his now-empty coffee cup with momentary disappointment before looking back up at her.

"You're right, I was worried that Bobby might turn me down out of loyalty to you. But I'm not asking you just to try and guarantee his acceptance. If that was the key requisite, I wouldn't want either one of you. I was looking at your CV last night, and I liked what I saw. You have the kind of technical know-how that Torchwood needs, you're smart, you've got a hell of a lot of courage, you're not gun-shy, you've got an open-mind, you have compassion. Those are all vital characteristics for Torchwood employees, and I can say without a doubt that you'd be a fantastic addition to the team. I want you for Torchwood, Alex Eames, and not just because of your partner. I want you for what _you_ can offer my team, and that's a hell of a lot." He leaned forward, and flashed her a disarming grin. "So, what d'you say? Are you interested?"

Alex gaped at him, taken aback by his vehemence. She had truly thought he was asking her to join purely to increase his chances of getting Bobby. It both stunned and warmed her to realise he was sincere in his desire to have her on his team as well.

"I… I'm flattered," she stammered, "but I'm not so sure I really want to leave New York…"

"You don't have to," he told her enthusiastically, not giving her the chance to finish the sentence. "I'm setting up a headquarters right here in New York. The Doctor confirmed it, there is a rift here. It's only very minor, compared to the one that runs through Cardiff, but it's there nonetheless, and there's enough happening here to justify Torchwood having a base in the city. I want to set it up within the next few months, and I want you and Bobby to take charge of it."

"How would we have any authority to operate as Torchwood in New York?" she wondered, puzzled, trying not to focus too hard just then on the realisation that she actually seemed to be considering the possibility of leaving the NYPD. "I thought Torchwood was strictly a British thing…"

"Well, technically it is, but the Royal Family has a long history of cooperation with the US Presidency in a lot of matters that the public will never know anything about. I'm heading to Washington DC in the next couple of days to meet with your President, and get ratification for setting up Torchwood in New York. He'll agree. There's too much going on that UNIT just can't or won't deal with. Plus, I have the backing of the Doctor."

Alex was, literally, speechless. When she did finally find her voice, it was a good two or three minutes later.

"You're really not kidding. You're actually going ahead with this."

"One hundred percent, with or without you. But I'd prefer _with_. Now, you don't have to answer me right away. The base won't be ready to go for a few months, so you have all of that time to think it over. Please, think about it carefully, Alex. You'd be a vital addition to Torchwood."

She continued to sit there, gob-smacked, while Jack went and ordered take-away coffee for his team. He urged her to her feet with a light nudge, and soon the two were walking side by side back to One Police Plaza.

Alex was unusually quiet as they walked back, and Jack watched her cautiously out of the corner of his eye.

"Thoughts?" he asked finally. She came to a halt in front of the police headquarters.

"No one could know, could they? What we'd be doing, I mean."

"No," he answered plainly. "You can't talk about it to anyone. I'll be the first to admit that we haven't exactly been up to scratch when it comes to keeping secrets, but no. We keep the secrets that we do for a reason. People aren't ready for the truth, Alex. Not collectively."

Alex sighed, looking around them at the people walking by, oblivious to the extraordinary conversation going on right there in front of them.

"That's true in more ways than one, Jack."

He smiled, a touch of sadness in his expression.

"I know."

She looked up at him quizzically.

"When are you going to talk to Bobby?"

There was no question of 'if' in her mind, and Jack didn't dispute her.

"As soon as I can lure him away without your captain noticing. I don't think Ross will take too kindly to knowing I'm out to poach his two best detectives."

Alex chuckled.

"Better wait until after hours, then. Ross has been watching him like a hawk all day. Listen, if you want to talk to Bobby privately, come to my place tonight. I'll give you the address…"

"You take him home with you?" Jack asked in amusement, and Alex had to resist the urge to hit him.

"We take it in turns to cook dinner for each other. It would have been Bobby's turn tonight, but after everything that's happened, I think it's only fair that I take over cooking duties tonight. Why don't you join us? Bring Ianto, too. It won't be anything fancy… Bobby's the master chef, not me. But I guarantee it'll be home-cooked."

Jack nodded approvingly.

"I think we might just take you up on that offer. Gwen, Owen and Tosh will be heading for the airport this afternoon, so I don't need to worry about them… Okay, Alex. You've got a deal. We'll be there."

Alex nodded, unable to keep the satisfied grin off her face as she scribbled her address onto a scrap piece of paper and handed it to Jack.

"Okay. Be there around eight tonight."

Jack's grin broadened as he pocketed the paper, and repeated enthusiastically; "We'll be there."

* * *

Just after lunch, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper and Toshiko Sato exited One Police Plaza for the last time, soon on their way to the airport for the much-anticipated flight home. Jack and Ianto saw them off, and then promptly headed back to the hotel to enjoy the comfort of the enormous suite without the fear of anyone interrupting them. They didn't emerge until just after seven that evening, with Ianto insisting they leave earlier than necessary firstly to pick up a bottle of wine as a courtesy, and secondly to negotiate the night time city traffic.

After a heated discussion in a corner bodega over the benefits of white wine as a dinner beverage as opposed to red – a discussion that had been amusedly observed by a number of other patrons – Jack had bought both bottles and herded his lover out of the store. They arrived on the doorstep of Alex's apartment just on eight, feeling oddly domestic with their offering of wine.

Alex opened the door for them, and she smirked in amusement as her gaze swept up and down Jack's figure.

"Don't you ever wear anything different?"

"I bought him a suit for his birthday," Ianto threw in lightly. "I don't think it's ever seen the light of day."

Jack grinned wolfishly with a good-natured lecherousness.

"Would you like to see me in my birthday suit, Alex? I'm sure it could be arranged."

Alex rolled her eyes.

"You really don't want me to answer that. C'mon in."

They headed inside, and allowed Alex to escort them into the living area. Bobby was not there, but rather in the small kitchen, busy at the stove. Jack raised an eyebrow at Alex, and she lifted her hands defensively.

"He was happy to let me cook, until I said you two were coming. Then he muttered something about burnt water and boiled toast, and the next thing I know I've been booted out of my own kitchen. I've asked him twice if he needs help, and all I get out of him are monosyllabic grunts."

Jack laughed softly.

"I get the same reaction from Ianto every time I go near his coffee machine."

"And with good reason," Ianto retorted, even as he headed towards the kitchen to help Bobby. "You broke the last machine, remember?"

"It was an accident!" Jack protested. "And you weren't there to make any! What else was I supposed to do?"

"Go to Starbucks, like the others do," Ianto shot back playfully. Jack chuckled and sat down on the couch at Alex's urging.

"He's right, you know. I've been spoiled by his coffee."

"Yes," Ianto's voice floated back out to them from within the confines of the kitchen. "You certainly have been."

Jack rolled his eyes in a very Ianto-like gesture.

"I need to watch myself. He might start threatening to ration me."

Alex couldn't resist a grin, despite a distinct feeling of sympathy.

"So you haven't been corrupted into drinking tea."

Jack snorted.

"Not a chance. Although, I didn't have much choice when I was travelling with the Doctor and Rose… and I think the Master took a special delight in forcing me to drink it cold. Bloody awful stuff. Give me coffee any day."

"Amen to that."

Jack smiled amusedly before speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"Did you talk to him about what we discussed today?"

"Haven't had a chance," she admitted. "And Bobby hasn't asked, either. Actually, he didn't even realise I'd gone, he was so wrapped up in what he was doing."

"I'd wondered," Jack mused. "I'm going to talk to him after we eat."

"You won't need to work too hard to convince him," Alex told him, perhaps a little sadly. Jack raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Does he really clash that badly with Ross?"

"It's not that," Alex said. "At least, it's not entirely that. Part of the problem is that Ross and Bobby are similar personalities. It's like putting two positives together. They're always going to clash, but lately I think they've been able to find more common ground. They seem to be able to work together better. It's other things… Just a month or so back, we had a really difficult case to deal with, the murder of another cop. Bobby refused to go after the original suspect. He believed the guy was innocent, and he stuck to his guns despite a lot of pressure from the brass. He took a hell of a lot of crap from other cops, too. Then, on top of that, he found out that the Chief of Detectives told the widow that he was a whack job, all to cover his own ass over why no arrest had been made."

Jack frowned deeply.

"Ungrateful son of a bitch!"

"You have no idea. When Bobby did successfully solve it, there were no thankyous, no one saying well done, just a reprimand for not following proper procedure, and the cold shoulder from other cops. He's disillusioned with the NYPD, Jack. He's put in a lot of years, a lot of hard work, only to end up being labelled the whack job of the Force. And all because he doesn't do things in a conventional way! And yet, the irony is, if he _did_ do things conventionally, half the crimes he investigates wouldn't get solved. It isn't fair, Jack. He doesn't deserve to be treated the way he has been. He's so much better than that."

Jack watched her with sympathy and understanding in his pale blue eyes.

"Sounds to me like you're just as disillusioned as he is."

Alex considered that for a moment before sighing.

"Well, maybe I am. I came into the NYPD as a woman fighting for her place in a man's world, and I used to think that was the worst of it, the old buddy-boy system. But it's not. Anyone who's different, who acts differently or talks differently… They're made pariahs by the rest, just for not conforming. Bobby is never going to be treated right by the NYPD purely because of that."

"He'd be treated right by Torchwood," Jack told her sincerely. "I promise you that."

"I know," Alex agreed. "That's one of the reasons why I told him that he should accept your offer, if that's what he wants. It's time he started to look out for his own interests. A new challenge… Hell, a whole new life… It's what he needs, whether I'm a part of that or not. I think he really would fit in perfectly at Torchwood, and as much as it'd kill me to lose him as a partner, I would never stand in the way of him moving on with his life. Not when even I can see it'd be for the better."

"You both would fit in," Jack told her gently. "I stand by what I said earlier today. I want you in Torchwood as much as I want Bobby."

She smiled just a touch nervously.

"Still thinking on that one. There's a lot I'd be giving up if I did take you up on that. A possible promotion to captain, for one…"

"Well, if that's the biggest obstacle, I'll happily appoint you Captain. I'll even share my stripes."

Alex laughed softly, paying his wolfish grin no mind.

"I'll let you know, Jack. I just can't decide right now."

The playfully leering grin softened into something far more genuine.

"No pressure, Alex. I just want you to think about it very carefully."

"I am," she assured him. "Believe me, I am."

* * *

Ianto was in the kitchen and helping with the dinner before Bobby even realised he was no longer alone, and then it simply seemed to work better, so he made no objections. It wasn't until they were nearly done that Ianto finally broke the otherwise companionable silence.

"You know, you really didn't need to go to all this trouble for us? Don't misunderstand me, it is appreciated, but Jack for one would have been just as happy with a plain cheese omelette."

Bobby huffed in mock disgust.

"Not when I'm cooking for guests."

Ianto smiled faintly as he watched Bobby stir the gently simmering pasta sauce.

"It's not as shameful as it sounds. I discovered when Jack came home… after that year… that he'd developed a rather voracious appetite for anything at all that could be classified as home-cooked. Even toast."

Bobby paused as the underlying meaning of Ianto's words sunk in.

"Did they feed him at all on that ship?"

"Once a day," Ianto replied. "Or rather, once a day when the Master wasn't experimenting with how much time it took to starve Jack to death. I gathered from what little Jack would tell me that the Master tried it a few times, but ended up getting bored and just shooting Jack in the head. That's beside the point, though. When Jack _was_ fed, it was apparently whatever food could be scrapped together from what was left over from the servants' meals. Usually cold, mashed vegetables, and never enough to keep him from going hungry. As a result, Jack tends to show great appreciation for every meals he's provided with, no matter how simple."

Bobby looked at the pasta and sauce, and the salad and vegetables he'd prepared with sudden uncertainty.

"So maybe I shouldn't have…"

Ianto silenced him with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's perfect, Bobby. I'm sorry, I don't think I quite succeeded in making my point clear. What I'm trying to say is that he's going to absolutely love all of this. You didn't need to go to the trouble, but I'm glad that you did. Torchwood cuisine too often consists of pizza, Chinese and other take-outs. It isn't all that often that we get the luxury of a home-cooked meal. So, thankyou. It _is_ appreciated, very much so."

Bobby let his breath out, looking very much relieved and Ianto smiled, recognising that ingrained desire for approval.

"Okay, then. Let's eat."

* * *

Ianto hadn't been wrong, and the way Jack's face positively lit up at the food Bobby had prepared more than settled the big detective's nerves. Dinner turned out to be more than amicable as first Jack and Ianto shared some of their more humorous tales, and then Bobby and Alex regaled their guests with stories of some of their most fascinating cases. Both wine and laughter flowed freely, although Jack declined alcohol in favour of mineral water from Alex's fridge.

Jack, to both Bobby and Alex's amusement, ploughed through three helpings of the pasta, and finished his last helping while begging Bobby to give him the recipe. That elicited wry laughter from Ianto, to which Jack responded with practised indignation.

"I'll have you know I can cook very well," he retorted, and Ianto snorted derisively.

"Since when?"

"Hey! I'm a hundred and seventy years old! I think it's safe to say that I learned how to cook somewhere along the line."

Again, Ianto snorted into his wine.

"Baked beans in a rusted pot in the middle of a battlefield don't count, Jack."

Jack looked positively sour.

"They were the best damned beans on the field, thankyou very much."

"All right," Alex stated firmly, deciding it was time for a tactical diversion. "We have apple pie and ice cream for dessert, but you don't get any if you're just going to squabble."

Both Jack and Ianto's eyebrows shot up simultaneously, making for a comical sight. Alex smirked and rose from her seat, heading into the kitchen to get the promised dessert.

"Is she serious?" Jack wondered, and Bobby nodded wryly.

"Very."

Jack grinned, then, but said nothing. He was just contemplating the best moment to broach the subject of recruitment when Bobby spoke in a slightly more subdued tone.

"Ross pulled me into his office today, after Alex followed you out, Jack."

Alex frowned as she set a steaming apple pie down on the table.

"You never mentioned that. What did he want?"

"He warned me against being seduced into joining Torchwood."

Jack smiled wryly.

"He knows I want to recruit you."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

"The thing is… he never said anything about not wanting to lose me from the squad. He just told me I was an idiot if I even considered it, and that I'd be signing my own death warrant if I accepted. It almost came out as, he doesn't really want me, but he doesn't want anyone else to have me, either… and I can't deny that it hurt."

Jack sighed softly.

"Well, I won't lie to you, Bobby. Torchwood employees have a tendency to die young. I can't guarantee your safety…"

"I'm not asking you to," Bobby told him quickly. "I actually had a hard time not laughing at him over that. I mean, it's not as if being a cop in the NYPD is hazard-free. But it wasn't that bit that got to me. It was when he told me to think very hard about how I'd cope without Alex that I really got my hackles up."

Alex nearly choked on her pie.

"He tried to use me to blackmail you into staying with the NYPD? That son of a bitch! And I thought he was better than that! Bobby, tell me you didn't listen to him?"

Bobby looked both embarrassed and uncomfortable, and Alex sighed softly.

"You did. Bobby, we already talked about this!"

"I know, Alex… But the thing is, Ross was still right. I… I don't cope well without you."

"And the fact that he knows it makes him all the more a bastard for using it against you," Alex growled angrily. Jack smiled faintly.

"Just as well then that he doesn't know that I'm trying to recruit you both," he said simply. Bobby stared at him, shock and confusion on his face.

"You… Sorry, _what_?"

Jack grinned broadly.

"I'm setting up a Torchwood branch in New York, Bobby. I hope to have it ready to go within three months. I want you and Alex to run it together."

Bobby looked incredulously to Alex, who nodded in confirmation.

"He told me today, apparently at the same time that Ross was trying to emotionally blackmail you. I haven't decided yet, but what you just said has just made me think about it all the more seriously. I'm not so sure I want to be a part of a culture where the brass are turning out to be sneaky, manipulative sons of bitches."

Bobby was silent for a long minute, slowly stirring his pie into mush. When he finally looked up again, his expression was determined.

"Yes."

Jack's eyes glinted, and he leant forward a little.

"You're accepting?"

"Yes," Bobby repeated in a soft, but no less determined voice. "I'm accepting, Jack. I want to join Torchwood." He looked to Alex with a hint of apology in his expression. "I hope you will, too, Alex, though I'll understand if you don't. But I just can't stay where I am any longer. I need this change."

She leaned over, and hugged him reassuringly.

"I know. It's okay, Bobby. It really is. And at least I know you won't be bored."

Jack chuckled.

"I can pretty much guarantee that. Once you get started, there'll always be something to keep you busy. And in concept, at least, it won't be all that different to the NYPD. The purposes are similar, but we do what we do to protect the planet, not just one city."

"The greater good," Bobby mused, and Jack nodded in agreement.

"Exactly. You won't get accolades, and odds are before long the NYPD'll hate the sight of you…"

"I don't anyway," Bobby remarked dryly, "and apparently most of them already do."

Jack smiled sympathetically before continuing on.

"But what you'll be doing is far more important than they could ever imagine. You'll answer to no one but me. The only official who will have the authority to contact you directly for any reason will be the President. Otherwise, all official contact will be routed through the Hub in Cardiff first. You'll get your orders and instructions only from me, or Ianto in my absence."

"What about family?" Alex asked. "Obviously they can't know the truth, but we can still have combat with them…?"

Jack nodded quickly, eager to reassure her.

"This isn't Russia. You won't be going into some Gulag. Yes, I want you to keep up your family ties. Keep up with your friends. Hold on to your lives outside of Torchwood as best as you can. Believe me, it's important."

Alex let her breath out in a long hiss. She'd said that she hadn't made up her mind yet, but that was less than true. Her decision had been made the moment that she learned that Ross had used her to try and blackmail Bobby into rejecting Jack's offer.

"Yes," she said quietly, very much aware of the magnitude of the decision she was making. Jack looked at her with all the eagerness of a child, almost making her laugh out loud.

"Really?"

She nodded.

"Yes. Count me in, Captain Harkness."

The pure joy that lit up Jack's eyes was a sight to behold, and had both Bobby and Alex grinning in response.

"Fantastic," Jack enthused. "Okay, then. Here's what's going to happen. For now, just go on with your lives as normal. Do you work, act like there's no change. Don't let anyone know what's going on. When the new base is ready to go, I'll contact you. When that happens, you both need to be ready to just drop your letters of resignation on your captain's desk and walk out. Once you're out those doors, it's done. There'll be no turning back, but there'll also be no fallout on you from walking out. I promise you'll be protected from that." He paused, looking at them both intently. "Is your answer still yes?"

The question was directed more so towards Alex than Bobby, and they both knew it. The two detectives exchanged glances and then, as one, they nodded.

"Yes," Alex confirmed for them both. "We're in. No turning back."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Bobby and Alex were finally alone, after Jack and Ianto had left to return to their hotel. The rest of the evening had played out pleasantly, especially when Jack discovered the electric keyboard that Alex kept for her nephews and nieces, and insisted on entertaining them with it.

Ianto's panicked look had both Bobby and Alex worried, and it seemed his fears were justified when Jack started playing. His piano-playing skills were shaky at best, and all members of his captive audience were just psyching themselves up to physically separate man from musical instrument, when Jack began singing. Though not professional in quality, he nonetheless had a beautiful tenor voice that entranced all of them. As it was, he got through two songs before Alex kicked him off the keyboard and took over playing, while Jack sung in a crystal clear voice.

They carried on like that until a soft snore alerted them to the fact that Ianto had fallen asleep. Jack decided at that point that it was time to go.

Now, Bobby and Alex sat together on the couch, revelling in the quiet.

"We've made the right choice."

Bobby looked down at her. It hadn't been a question, but rather a statement of fact, and it warmed and reassured him that she was confident with her decision. Even so, he couldn't resist asking a question in response.

"You're really okay with the idea of being hated by the NYPD?"

She grinned up at him.

"What are you trying to do? Turn me off?"

"No, but..."

"Then shut up. Don't make me whack you, you big bozo."

Bobby's face broke into a lopsided grin.

"You haven't called me that for a long time."

"Mm," she murmured in agreement. "We haven't been comfortable enough with each other for a long time for me to feel like I could. All it means is that everything's finally going to get better. We made the right choice. My only issue is what happens when my dad finds out I've quit the NYPD. What the hell am I going to tell him, Bobby?"

Bobby gave a lopsided shrug.

"What was it that Gwen said she told her boyfriend? Special Ops? Tell him that. Or better yet, tell him you're liaising with the FBI, or something similar. Say it's a long term assignment."

She nodded thoughtfully, turning that suggestion over in her mind.

"Federal liaison. I like that. It'd be too hard for him to check up on. He doesn't know any Feds, where there are plenty of cops who'd be glad to dish up the dirt to him. As for quitting Major Case... Well, he knows I haven't been any happier there than you since Deakins quit. And he's told me more than once since the Gage case not to be shy about moving on if I was really unhappy. I'll just tell him that's exactly what I've done."

"And hopefully I won't have anymore problems with Frank," Bobby mused. "He won't know where to find me, once we're gone from the NYPD. It's not as though we'll leaving a forwarding address." He paused, shuddering slightly as though with delayed shock. "We're really doing it. We're leaving the NYPD. It hardly seems real..."

"I know," Alex murmured. "It wasn't that long ago that I was sure I'd be a cop all my life. I know nothing ever stays the same, but I never imagined a change like this. I can't help thinking that I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning and wonder if this was all a dream."

Bobby smiled.

"At least it's not a nightmare."

A smirk touched Alex's lips.

"Not for us, anyway. I can't wait to see the look on Ross's face the day that we hand him our resignations. He's going to have a fit."

Bobby uttered a short laugh.

"Him, the brass and the DA's office. You know we're likely to be walking out with court cases pending."

"I know. And that's not to mention what's going to happen to Major Case's solve rate. I almost feel sorry for Logan, even though us leaving should make him lead detective in the squad."

"He'll be okay," Bobby murmured. "He might not understand, but he'll fall on his feet. He always does."

"Mm. Even after ten years on Staten Island. He's still thanking his lucky stars for Deakins."

Bobby hesitated before speaking quietly.

"I was thinking... We're not going to be able to carry on long term, just the two of us. We'll need extra help. At least one more. person, depending on how busy we are."

She peered up at him curiously.

"What are you thinking?"

He fidgeted, a sure sign of nerves.

"Do you think Jack would agree to hiring someone else? Because I was thinking about Deakins..."

Alex felt her heart skip at the thought of working with their beloved captain again, and had to forcibly quash the thought before it could take hold.

"It's a wonderful idea, Bobby, but we'd have to discuss it with Jack first of all, and he might not agree. Secondly, as far as we know, Deakins is happy with that consultation job he got after leaving the NYPD. He may not want to join. Look, let's just take this one step at a time. Right now, we have to be patient and wait. When it's all ready, and _we're_ settled, then we can raise it with Jack. But not right now. Okay?"

Bobby nodded, easily agreeing.

"Three months," he said wistfully in between wide yawns. "That's how long Jack said it would take to get the base up and running."

"Hey, think we'll get a car like their SUV?" Alex wondered suddenly. "I really hope we get an SUV. That's the biggest thing I'll miss about leaving Major Case, I think."

Bobby laughed, not surprised at her admission.

"Maybe. Lewis might be able to help out there. I ought to introduce Jack to him. I think Jack would like him."

Alex smiled contentedly as she curled her legs up underneath her and leaned in against her big teddy bear of a partner.

"The next three months are going to be hell, waiting for that call."

Bobby smiled as he wrapped an arm easily around Alex's shoulders.

"But it's going to be okay. Better than okay, it's going to be great."

"Yeah," Alex agreed firmly. "It is."

* * *

_tbc..._


	26. Epilogue: Everything Changes

_Approximately three months later_

Mike Logan paused in the doorway of the captain's office, mildly surprised to find Ross not behind his desk, but rather standing at the glass wall and peering out at the squad room through the Venetian blinds. It wasn't the first time that Mike had caught Ross in such a pose. Multiple times, especially over the last few weeks, he'd glanced in the direction of Ross's office to see the captain standing there like that, watching the occupants of the squad room with a frown.

"Captain?" he asked tentatively, wondering at the same time whether it wouldn't be best to just turn around and leave Ross to his brooding. "Everything okay?"

Still frowning, Ross stepped away from the wall, and returned to his desk with visible reluctance.

"Come in, Logan. Shut the door and have a seat. I want to talk to you."

_This can't be good_, Mike thought ruefully, but he did as Ross asked. Once he was seated, Ross spoke quietly.

"Tell me, have you noticed anything odd recently about Goren and Eames?"

Mike's eyebrows shot up.

"You mean, more than usual?"

Ross said nothing, but merely waited patiently. It was Mike's turn to frown as he contemplated the question.

"Well… not really. Nothing that's especially out of the ordinary. Except…"

"What?" Ross pressed, and Mike shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know that it's worth mentioning. Just… they've both cleaned their desks off. No photos left, not trinkets, nothing. Goren's cleared most of those psyche books he usually has lying around… It just seems a little weird, but I don't know. It's probably nothing to worry about."

Ross's gaze flickered past Mike, through the glass to where Bobby and Alex were currently engrossed in paperwork from one of their current cases.

"They haven't been quite the same with the business with Torchwood three months ago," Ross admitted. "Goren especially. "Harkness is gone, thank God… But ever since, it's like they've been waiting for something, and I don't know what."

Mike said nothing in reply to that, although he quietly agreed. What he hadn't told Ross was that the clearing of personal effects had not been a sudden thing, but rather that it had happened slowly, bit by bit over the last three months. It was as if the two had gone to great trouble to avoid anyone taking any real notice of what they were doing.

Mike hadn't asked them about it, but he still wondered more and more what they were up to.

"On the bright side," he said, deciding it was time to try and put a positive spin on the discussion, "Goren has been a lot happier. A lot more settled."

If anything, Ross's frown deepened, triggering a feeling of irritation in Mike on Bobby's behalf. Maybe the other detective hadn't been so far off the mark when he'd commented that Ross would never be satisfied with him.

"I suppose so," Ross conceded with very visible reluctance. Mike clenched his jaw, no longer able to keep quiet.

"Captain, do you _want_ Goren gone from Major Case?"

Ross looked genuinely startled by the unexpected question.

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Really? Well, you're sure as hell acting like it."

Ross stared at Mike, taken completely aback by the aggression in the other man's voice.

"Logan, you're out of line…"

Mike stood up abruptly, nearly sending the chair over backwards with the violent movement.

"No, Captain, _you_ are. Ever since you took over Major Case, you're treated Bobby like some sort of freak. It's all good while he's solving the cases, but on the other hand you keep using him like he's some sort of friggin' whipping boy! It's not good enough, Captain. It's not enough to just give him an occasional pat on the head, when the rest of the time you're kicking him in the proverbial balls!"

Ross reddened with anger at the comment, but Mike was on a roll and had no intention of stopping.

"You say you don't want to lose Bobby from the squad, and yet everything you say and do is just pushing him further away! Right now, I wouldn't blame him if he did quit, regardless of where he planned on going. Because you made it pretty damned clear right from the start that the only thing he's good for in your eyes is a scapegoat for whenever the shit hits the fan!"

Ross pointed to the door, fuming.

"Out, Logan. Now. Go get yourself a coffee and chase up a witness, or something… Just get the hell out of this building. I do not want to see your face again for the rest of the day."

Mike went, but paused in the doorway to focus a dark look at the captain.

"If we lose them, it'll be your fault, Captain. Just remember that."

Then, he was gone. Ross sat back down and rubbed his hands over his face. The worst part of the whole damn thing was that Logan was right. He was treating Goren badly, and he didn't really know why. Sure, they had clashed to begin with, but he understood where a lot of Goren's anxiety and trauma came from.

He hadn't been telling a lie when he told Logan that he didn't want to lose Goren from the squad. He knew how detrimental it would be to Major Case if Goren were to leave, and it churned in his gut to think of another department benefiting from the man's genius. It cut especially deep to think of Goren being lured away by the likes of Jack Harkness, and he again thanked the deities that the brash leader of Torchwood was long gone.

The bottom line was that despite knowing the dangers, he simply couldn't stop himself from treating Goren so badly. It was an utter contradiction, to tell himself that he wanted him in his squad and then treat him like dirt, and Ross was ashamed of himself over it, but he just couldn't help himself.

Part of him, deep down, suspected a reason, and that reason went by the name of Jack Harkness. Yes, the Torchwood Captain was well and truly out of the picture now, and nor could he be blamed for the conflict that had gone on prior to Torchwood's encroachment on their turf. However, Ross did firmly blame Jack for giving Bobby a chance to see something better than what he currently had.

And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he was perhaps just a little bit jealous, as well. After all, he knew he was smart as Goren, but it was Goren that the enigmatic Torchwood leader had shown interest in.

He swallowed a sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, Logan was right. If he lost Goren now, it would only be his own fault – purely for sheer pig-headedness in not making the effort to let the unconventional detective know just how much he really was appreciated.

* * *

"I don't know what just happened," Alex murmured, "but Logan just stormed out of Ross's office."

Bobby huffed softly, not raising his eyes from his paperwork.

"That could mean anything. Is Ross still watching us?"

"Not at the moment. You think he suspects something?"

Bobby appeared to contemplate that before shrugging.

"Maybe. Doesn't really matter, though, does it?"

"No, I guess not." She paused for a moment before voicing the question that was dancing around in her mind. "Have you heard from him at all?"

Bobby glanced up at her and smiled reassuringly, sensing her anxiety clearly.

"No, but I'm not worried, either. He said it would take at least three months to set up. And besides… did you check your bank balance?"

Alex nodded, and her voice dropped to a low, subtle murmur, though her eyes betrayed her astonishment.

"I know we never discussed salaries, but if that's what we're going to be getting paid… even if it's only once a month… then we definitely made the right choice."

"What right choice would that be, Eames?" a voice asked abruptly, and both detectives looked up to find Ross standing there, watching them both piercingly. Alex didn't miss a beat, speaking calmly and maintaining eye contact.

"The design of my new bathroom, Captain. I'm planning to renovate. My tub just isn't big enough for two when I have company over."

Ross blanched, and muttered something under his breath about fresh coffee before beating a hasty retreat. Only once he was back in his office did the two detectives allow themselves a quiet chuckle.

"Now that was a line that Jack would be proud of," Bobby remarked, and Alex grinned.

"Got rid of him, didn't it?" She paused to glance across the room, before groaning. "And now he's back to watching us again."

Bobby shrugged.

"So let him watch."

Abruptly, Alex's phone buzzed to signal an incoming message. As she picked it up, Bobby's cell phone also started to vibrate.

"If that's my idiot brother calling to remind me of Nathan's birthday again…" she muttered threateningly, only to trail off into startled silence. There was just one word lit up on the screen of her phone, and it told them everything they'd been waiting for.

_TORCHWOOD_

When she spoke again, it was in a considerably subdued tone. "Bobby? Does your phone say the same thing mine does?"

He didn't say anything, and nor did he need to. The look on his face said it for him. Struggling to suppress a shudder, Alex quietly unbuckled her gun holster and laid it carefully on the desk. She then unclipped her badge, and set it beside the weapon. Bobby, she noted, had done exactly the same thing.

She watched as he reached into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a plain white envelope that had first been placed there near enough on three months ago. Then, his eyes lifted to meet hers, and concern flashed across his face.

"Alex?"

She could hear the unspoken question as clearly as if he'd said it aloud.

_You haven't changed your mind, have you?_

In answer, she pulled out a similar white envelope and indicated towards Ross's office with a slight incline of her head, her mind well made up despite the nerves that her churning her gut.

"Let's do this."

* * *

Ross started a little, suddenly realising that Bobby and Alex were headed towards his office. He was acutely aware that they had both removed their guns and... He frowned in growing concern, recognising the golden glints on their desks as their detective's shields.

He wheeled around just as they walked into his office, and felt the blood run cold in his veins as his gaze went to the envelope in their hands.

_No... Nonononono..._

"Goren," he said aloud, keeping his voice as calm as possible. "Eames. What can I do for you both?"

The two detectives exchanged amused glances that sent fresh chills down Ross's spine. Bobby stepped closer, taking the envelope Alex was holding and handing both to Ross.

"You can accept these, sir."

Ross took them in numb fingers, and though deep down he already knew what they were, he still had to ask.

"What are these, Goren?"

Part of him hoped they were just transfer requests. Those could be denied, even for the flimsiest reasons. But he knew better, and Bobby's next words shattered his illusion of control.

"Our resignations, Captain."

Ross felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, Logan's words already coming back to haunt him.

"Detectives, do you really think..."

"Stop," Bobby cut him off in a tone that rang with authority, and clearly told Ross that the big detective no longer recognised his. "We're not negotiating with you, Captain, and we're not giving notice. We're leaving, right now."

Ross stared, utterly disbelieving.

"You're just walking out?"

"That's right," Alex confirmed flatly. And then, as they both turned to move, Ross suddenly seemed to come to his senses enough to put up a cohesive argument.

"Stop right there, both of you! The hell you are! You can't just turn around and walk out. For starters, you have open cases. Four of them, not to mention two upcoming trials! You cannot just leave like this! And... your contracts..."

If anything, Bobby actually smiled in reaction to Ross's rant.

"We'll still testify in court if the ADA needs us to, but other than that, we're done. Our contracts are irrelevant now, Captain. I think you'll find that if you try to hold us to them, you're just going to fall flat."

By then, Ross looked very much like he was about to go into apoplexy.

"You can't do this..." he stammered, torn between hating Bobby for reducing him to a babbling mess and wanting to beg him to stay. Alex spoke, a tiny smile on her face that infuriated the captain.

"Yes, actually we can. Now, if you'll excuse us, Captain Ross... and I say that only as a matter of courtesy, because frankly we don't care if you do or not. We're leaving now. We have somewhere much more important to be."

"Our guns and badges are on our desks," Bobby told him, trying hard not to take a very real pleasure in the shell-shocked look on the captain's face. With that, he turned on his heel and followed Alex out.

By that time, every detective in the squad room had given up all pretence of working, and were either sitting or standing around, looking on in open-mouthed shock. Bobby and Alex detoured only to collect their coats before heading for the exit, and the elevators beyond. They made brief eye contact with their fellow detectives as they went, trying to convey their appreciation for their colleagues without speaking.

In the end, when the story later circulated around the NYPD like wildfire, there was just one consistent fact in the many variations that were told. Bobby Goren and Alex Eames left the Major Case Squad, and the NYPD, with their heads held high.

* * *

Mike stalked out into the daylight, still fuming. As much as he personally liked Ross, with his hands-on approach and no-nonsense manner, right now he was seriously pissed off with the man. That, ad he was deeply unsettled at what he saw as a very real prospect of Bobby leaving. There was, in his opinion, only one good thing that might possibly emerge from Bobby's departure, and that was the likelihood that he would be partnered with Alex.

He shook his head roughly. It wasn't worth losing a cop of Bobby's calibre for that; not at all. And oh, how the irony of _that_ amused him no end. He vividly remembered his first encounter with Bobby, and of his first impression that the guy was just another head case. If someone had told him the 'head case' would become one of his closest friends, he probably would have punched them out.

As it was, he was still astounded by the depth of the friendship he now had with Bobby, and the thought of him leaving Major Case almost physically _hurt_.

He started across the square, intending to go for that coffee – all the while imagining throwing it in Ross's face – when an unexpected sight brought him up short. Across the way, standing in front of a hulking black SUV and looking as enigmatic as ever in his ankle length RAAF coat, was Captain Jack Harkness.

Mike felt a chill race through him that was entirely unpleasant. Jack had seen him and was definitely watching him, but had made no effort to acknowledge him. He simply stood there, watching... No, Mike realised. Not just watching. He was waiting for something... or someone.

For a long minute, Mike found it extraordinarily hard to breathe. He had thought the man had gone back to England, or wherever the hell it was that he'd come from, and he really didn't like the fact that he was standing here now. He was about to approach Jack – no idea what he'd say, but he'd think of something – when movement off to his side caught his attention, and he looked to see Bobby and Alex had emerged and were standing nearby.

He looked from them back to Jack, and felt the unease grow when Jack finally moved, and a wide grin lit up his face. Mike looked back to Bobby and Alex, and felt the first twinges of panic as they started to move forward.

"Hey!" he burst out. "What the hell are you two doing? Where are you going?"

Bobby stopped, and regarded Mike seriously.

"I wouldn't go back up to the squad room for a while, Mike. Ross isn't going to be in a good mood... to say the least."

"Okay... But _where_ are you going?"

Alex spoke quietly, while still watching Jack out of the corner of her eye.

"We're moving on, Mike, but we'll still see you around. Friday nights at Murphy's, okay?"

Mike nodded, too confused to put up any sort of cohesive argument.

"Yeah, sure, but..."

"Take care, Mike," Bobby told him sincerely. "We'll see you around."

And with that, they headed across the square to where Jack was waiting.

* * *

Jack came forward to meet them, not hesitating a second in throwing his arms around each of them in a welcoming hug.

"Did he give you any trouble?" he asked, and they both knew he meant Ross and not Mike.

"We didn't give him a chance to," Bobby answered. "He looked like he was about to bust an artery when we walked out, but no. No problems."

Jack nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Okay, ready to go?"

"As ready as we're ever going to be," Alex admitted, and Jack's grin softened a little.

"It's a big leap, I understand that. But it's going to be fine. Now, c'mon. I want to show you where you'll be working from."

"This isn't your SUV," Bobby commented as Jack ushered them into the vehicle.

"Nope," he agreed cheerfully. "It's yours."

Bobby and Alex could only stare wide-eyed round them at the technology with which the SUV had been fitted out.

"This is incredible," Alex murmured as she took a closer look at the computer gear.

"Top of the line equipment," Ianto told them as he steered the SUV through the New York traffic, "boosted by a bit of safe alien tech. There's nothing else like it."

"He's not kidding about that, either," Jack said with a chuckle. "Owen and Tosh were both jealous as hell when they got a look at the schematics. This thing leaves our SUV back home for dead."

Alex whistled softly.

"Well, if this is what we get to drive around in, then I can't wait to see where we'll be working."

Jack and Ianto traded knowing grins.

"You're gonna love it," Jack enthused. "You really are."

* * *

"Now, unfortunately, there wasn't a water tower with a perception filter to construct a base underneath," Jack said wryly. "So, we looked for the next best thing. Now, keep in mind that it's not going to look like much on the outside, but that's what we want. We _don't_ want it to attract attention."

"As long as it doesn't look too crappy," Alex remarked dryly. "We don't need it being broken into by drug addicts looking for somewhere to shoot up."

Ianto grinned.

"Alex, the person who can break into this place deserves everything they get."

"Which will be one hell of a shock," Jack added with a satisfied smirk, "followed by severe memory loss. Here we are…"

They pulled up in a restricted parking zone outside a shop front that, at outward appearances, seemed to be selling some sort of insurance, but the drawn blinds and dark interior gave it a less than reputable look.

"Oh, good," Alex remarked dryly. "We'll be getting raided by the Feds for having mob connections."

Jack grinned widely.

"If they can get past the front door."

"What do you mean?" Bobby queried. Jack stepped forward and flattened his palm against an incongruous strip of metal on the wall beside the door. Initially, nothing happened, but after a few seconds the metal glowed faintly and there was a soft click as the door unlocked and swung open.

"It's a DNA-encoded strip," Jack explained. "Another useful bit of alien tech that we've picked up over the years. Touching that strip is the only way to get the door open. Ordinarily if someone touches it, nothing will happen. It will only react to those whose DNA has been keyed in. We'll do that for you both before we leave here tonight."

Explanation offered, Jack motioned for them to enter.

"After you."

* * *

The inside looks as mundane as the exterior, with just a desk and a few chairs, a few slightly tattered taxation posters and a fake potted plant in the corner. It looked as uninteresting as it could possibly be.

"If someone _does_ manage to get inside…" Jack said.

"Which is extremely unlikely," Ianto added. Jack nodded.

"Like I said, _if_ they do, this is all they'll find. Now, it's that door over there that leads you to where you want to be."

Bobby and Alex looked in the direction that he indicated, but neither of them noticed anything. It wasn't until Jack walked to the other side of the pseudo-office and laid his hand on a door that they even realised the door was there. Alex blinked hard, baffled by the door's apparent sudden appearance.

"That wasn't there before… was it?"

Jack grinned.

"It was there, but you didn't notice it until I brought your attention to it because it has a built in perception filter. All it does is shift your perception just a little… like seeing something just out of the corner of your eye. You know it's there, but it doesn't really register consciously." He motioned to the metal plate fixed to the wall beside the door. "It's the same as outside, a DNA reader to unlock the door."

He released the door, and held it open for them.

"If you will…?"

Exchanging bemused looks, Bobby and Alex stepped through the door, with Jack and Ianto right behind them.

They walked along a short hallway to an elevator, which took them up a couple of floors. When the doors slid open, Jack made a broad, sweeping motion with his hand.

"Welcome to Torchwood Five."

Bobby and Alex stepped out into an enormous space that was comfortably cluttered with all sorts of technology – some of which they recognised, and others they didn't. There were two large desks within close proximity to each other; each one fitted out with state of the art computer equipment. Behind one desk, there was an enormous bookshelf that ran nearly ten metres in width, and was crammed with books.

Unable to resist, Bobby gravitated to the shelves and pulled a book out to look at it properly.

"You've got all the books you'll need on alien languages, customs, planets, galaxies," Jack told him with a grin, delighting in Bobby's obvious enthusiasm. "There are even some books there _in_ alien languages. The Doctor helped compile this collection for you. He thought it'd be a good idea for you to have some clue about alien culture."

"A whole bookcase load of books he's never read? You just made his year," Alex commented wryly, and Jack laughed softly.

"It's just to help you both understand that not all alien life is bad. You're likely to have a lot of incidental contact, and it's important that you know when to just smile and wave, as opposed to when to pull out the big guns."

"Proverbially speaking?" Alex queried, recalling the Doctor's vehement objection to guns. Jack smiled wryly.

"No, not proverbially, Alex. You have an extremely well-equipped armoury at your disposal… all of which we'll show you how to use. And again, it's going to be a case of knowing what to use, and when. I don't want you to get trigger happy, or I'll have the Doctor after me, and not in a good way."

Ianto rolled his eyes, and took over before Jack got carried away with his own innuendo.

"You have your workstations here, on the main level, along with all the general equipment that you're likely to be using on a regular basis, including the rift monitor. And, of course, the kitchen is over there with a brand new coffee machine, which _I _will show you both how to use."

"Living quarters are on the next floor up," Jack went on after firing a wry look at his lover. "There are cells one level down, and below that you have your own archives. You have a general weapons locker on this level, but the armoury and shooting range is on the bottom level."

"How many levels are there?" Bobby wondered.

"You have the whole building," Jack told them. "A total of seven levels. The top two levels have been set up for storage and recreation. You've got everything here that you'll need."

"You really think we can handle this?" Alex asked. "Just the two of us?"

It was a slyly put question, and though Bobby knew what she meant, Jack didn't seem to realise where the question was really intended to lead.

"For now, yes. Although, it might not be too long before I'll need to look at hiring someone else to help you. I could always recruit someone from UNIT… unless you two have someone in mind who might be suitable? But then, that is why you asked, isn't it? Because you _do _have someone specific in mind."

Alex and Bobby exchanged wry looks. Not so oblivious after all, then.

"We do," Bobby confirmed. "When you're ready to consider it, we were thinking of our former captain, Jimmy Deakins."

Jack nodded, quietly pleased that Bobby deferred to him.

"I'll look into it, but right now we have other business to deal with. Come over here, and we'll show you how to use the rift monitor system works…"

* * *

Some hours later found them sitting in a corner booth in a little restaurant that was not far from the new base. Bobby spoke haltingly, struggling for one of the few times in his life to express himself.

"Jack… Thankyou…"

Jack regarded Bobby with bright eyes and a knowing smile.

"For what, Bobby?"

Bobby made a slightly flustered gesture with his hands.

"For everything. For what you've given us today. For being willing to give us a second chance, when you didn't have to…"

"Yes," Jack interrupted, his voice suddenly sober. "I did. If I wasn't willing to do that, then I'd be the worst kind of hypocrite."

"Is that what the Doctor did for you?" Alex asked. "Give you a second chance? Is that why you love him so much?"

Jack smiled, this time a little sadly.

"The Doctor took a chance on me when he had every right and reason to leave me to die. so yeah, I'm big on giving people second chances."

"And sometimes third, fourth and fifth ones, as well," Ianto added, smiling lovingly at Jack. The Captain returned the smile briefly before returning his focus to Bobby and Alex.

"You're going to screw up. Take it as a given. I might even be angry at you over it, depending on the scale f the screw-up, but it will pass. And believe me when I say I can forgive a hell of a lot."

Ianto said nothing to that, but nodded soberly in agreement. Jack went on quietly.

"Just promise me that you'll never hesitate to let me know when the crap hits the fan, and whatever happens, do _not_ waste valuable time telling me how sorry you are about it. I guarantee, that will piss me off more than the screw-up."

Bobby and Alex both nodded, and then Bobby spoke tentatively.

"Who...?"

A grin finally lit up Jack's face.

"Gwen. On her first day, she tried to be clever and accidentally released an alien gas that... well, let's just say that some people got killed. That didn't bother me so much. Eveyone screws up, and I'm the last person who should stand in judgement there. But she has no idea just how close I came to retconning her that day, because she wouldn't quit saying she was sorry! All the way back to the Hub, it was nothing but '_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm really really sorry_'! And let me tell you, she doesn't make the Welsh accent sound anywhere near as sexy as Ianto does."

Ianto smiled amusedly.

"It's not the words, it's all in the tone."

"She has a crush on you," Alex pointed out, and Jack frowned.

"I never encouraged her..."

Ianto coughed loudly, catching Jack's gaze and raising an eyebrow. The Captain winced visibly.

"Okay, so maybe I did a little, just to start with. But she's engaged to her boyfriend now, and I really wish she'd quit trying to play me off against Rhys."

"She's still hoping that you'll come charging in and sweep her off her feet," Bobby mused and Jack snorted.

"There's only one person that I'd like to sweep off their feet, and it isn't her."

He then leered good-naturedly at Ianto who blushed an adorable shade of red, while Bobby and Alex both grinned into their coffees.

* * *

Alex dropped Bobby off at his apartment building before heading out to her parents' home. She'd come to the decision that the best way to deal with her parents was to face them head on. Sooner rather than later, too, because her father had left five messages for her throughout the afternoon demanding to know what was going on.

She grimaced at the memory as she finally pulled up outside her parents' home. Word really did travel fast through the ranks of the NYPD. Climbing out, she wasn't the least bit surprised when her father came hurrying out to meet her.

"Alex? What the hell is going on? The calls I've had today... They're all saying you quit the Force! It's not true, is it?"

She sucked in a fortifying breath. Here went everything.

"Yeah, Dad, it is true. Bobby and I handed in our resignations today, effective immediately. We're not cops anymore."

John Eames looked like he'd been slapped.

"The Chief..." he stammered, looking dazed. "I'll call the Chief... or better yet, the Commissioner. He can get it reversed."

Alex stepped in close and laid her hands on his shoulders, silencing him.

"I don't want it to be reversed, Dad. It wasn't a mistake, and it wasn't a decision made in the heat of the moment, either. We've been planning it for three months."

Again, he looked shell-shocked, and she took the opportunity to guide him back inside the house. Her mother was waiting there, looking only marginally less anxious that John.

"Alex, honey, what's going on?"

"Come and sit down," she urged them both. "I'll tell you what I can."

They all sat down in the family room, and Alex slowly, choosing her words with care.

"Bobby and I were approached by an... independent, private agency that was looking at setting up an office in New York."

"This was three months ago?" John queried, and Alex nodded.

"Yes. We were asked to run it together, and we decided to accept."

John got back up and started pacing in agitation.

"An independent agency? Doing what?"

That was where it got tricky, Alex mused. There was no easy answer to that, particularly one that would deter her father from looking any deeper into it.

"I can't discuss it," she said carefully. "It's classified, Dad."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Classified? As in, government classified?"

She saw an opening, and pounced on it.

"We're sanctioned directly by the President, Dad," she told him.

"CIA...?" he asked with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"No. I said it was an independent agency. It's sanctioned by the President, but we don't answer to the Government."

"Alex, you haven't stumbled into something... _bad_, have you?" he asked anxiously, and her mother let out a huff of annoyance.

"For God's sake, John, she said it's sanctioned by the President."

He didn't look convinced.

"The CIA is sanctioned by the President, and there's nothing good about _them_."

Alex sighed and shook her head.

"You're just going to have to trust me, Dad. It's okay, it really is."

John conceded with visible reluctance.

"Okay, honey. I can't say I understand what this is all about, or why you've decided to take this path, but it's your life. If this is what you want, then so be it. Just promise us that you'll try to stay out of danger?"

Alex smiled, then, quietly amused by the irony of that request, while at the same time grateful for her parents' understanding.

"I'm in no more danger than if I'd stayed with the NYPD," she told them, silently noting that they were looking less than convinced.

"I can't say that makes me feel any better," John said ruefully. "And what about Bobby? Did he quit to join this mysterious agency, too?"

"Yes, he did. We went together."

"Well, I suppose now he'll at least get the brass off his back. And I know he'll do his best to protect you."

"That goes both ways, Dad," Alex told him quietly.

John sighed, then, and Alex saw resignation in his eyes, along with a glimmer of acceptance.

"All right, Alex. Okay. If this is what you want..."

"It is."

He nodded.

"Then we won't fight with you over it. It's your life. We trust you not to waste it."

Alex's face lit up in a broad smile as she thought briefly of her and Bobby's amazing new workplace.

"Trust me, Dad, I'm not wasting it. And thankyou."

* * *

It was nothing unusual for Bobby to find himself unable to sleep when he returned home. He was well-used to the insomnia that plagued him. What he wasn't used to was the sheer sense of contentment and satisfaction that engulfed him. There was no guilt over walking out of Major Case – he'd given that squad over seven years, and had nothing to show for it except a handful of reprimands and a headful of grey hairs. He didn't feel like he owed the squad anything at all.

More to the point, though, his mind wasn't brimming with case information. He wasn't stuck inside the head of some perp. It was a pretty good feeling, he mused as he lay in bed.

When they parted company that evening, Jack had told them to be prepared the next day for what he had called a 'short trip'. The New York base would be locked down, and they would all be travelling to Cardiff via Jack's vortex manipulator. The best way to learn the job, the Captain had decided, was to learn by experience alongside those _with_ the experience.

And so they would spend the next two weeks in Cardiff, training for their new positions under Jack and his team. And hadn't _that_ innocent little statement from Ianto been twisted into all sorts of innuendo by Jack.

Bobby chuckled softly to himself at the thought of the ennigmatic Captain, and couldn't help comparing him to Ross. There was a world of difference between the two men – just as there had been a world of difference between Ross and Deakins. Perhaps if circumstances had been different, he might have eventually been able to adjust to Ross's style of command, Bobby mused, but the end of it was that now he didn't have to.

He was no longer NYPD, he was Torchwood. _Torchwood_...

He rolled the thought over in his mind, liking it better every time. He was Torchwood, and nothing would change that now.

Bobby smiled into the darkness. It had been a long time since he'd really had something to look towards, something new to really believe in, and Jack had given that to him. He would always be grateful to the Captain for that. He felt as though his life was starting over anew, and it was a damned good feeling. And better still, Alex would be right there with him, ensuring the change was nowhere near as jarring as it could have been. He liked to think that he did the same for her, as well, making the transition from NYPD to Secret Alien Catchers much smoother.

He laughed again, enjoying the sound of his own laughter. It had been a long time since there had been anything worth laughing over, and he couldn't get over the new feeling of freedom that he had.

His mind went slowly back over the events of the day, from walking out of Major Case for the last time, to walking into the new base for the first time, and all the delight and wonder that experience had given him and Alex both. They had much to look forward to, and he couldn't wait to start.

As Jack had said, yes they would probably screw up. But it was a whole new learning curve, and they had a support base now that hadn't existed previously in the NYPD. There, their so-called support base had been waiting for them to screw up. This time, it was going to be so much different.

Bobby smiled contentedly as he finally settled down in bed. Everything was good, he told himself with fresh confidence. He had a new job with a new boss, whose experiences were a world away from those of his former captains, and he had a whole new life to look forward to living. The smile remained on his lips even as sleep finally took him.

He couldn't wait.

* * *

_fin._


End file.
